


A Special Spider

by DopamineLover



Category: Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: But they all do so..., Concussions, F/M, How Do I Tag, Hurt Peter Parker, Irondad, Not Spider-Man: Homecoming Compliant, Poor Peter Parker, Precious Peter Parker, Secret Identity, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, poor Spidey, teenage romance, wait for the end
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-23 11:31:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 48,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15605346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DopamineLover/pseuds/DopamineLover
Summary: Peter Parker meets the Avengers by accident and ends up spending more and more time with his heroes. What will happen when the Avengers find out what Peter does in his free time? Just a fun idea I had.Rated "Graphic depictions of violence" because I'm paranoid. Mild language (But I'm refraining). Only pairing may be Peter and Gwen.Started on Fanfiction . net and uploaded onto here! Yay!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Please bear with the postings! For now, they're being transferred really quickly, but afterward, I'll post real slowly. I'm notorious for that, sorry.  
> But please enjoy! It gets better as I go, I promise.

What a great day Peter had. He was late to his first class of the day, got detention, lost some homework, and got beat up by Flash Thompson. What a fine Monday. He might've been to school on time if he had woken up on time. But he went to sleep at 4 am, after a full night on patrol as Spiderman. He had stopped an armed robbery, stopped two muggings, and one attempt at rape. All in all, he did a good job, but he was damn tired afterward. It's not like he intended to stay out so late, things just got out of hand.

But Peter at least made it to school, thanks to Aunt May. She's the real hero here. In return for his gratitude, Peter offered to get the groceries after school. And that's why Peter is carrying 4 bags of milk, eggs, bread, flour, sugar, orange juice, and paper towels along with his backpack. And Peter is usually quite awful at remembering what he needed to pick up, so it's not his fault that he's so wrapped up in trying to remember. Maybe if he'd been paying more attention and listened to his spidey sense last minute, he would have dodged the high-velocity projectile coming straight towards his head from behind. But alas, this day needs to get worse before it can get better.

WHAM! Something hits Peter square in the back of the head with a lot of force. So much that he falls to the sidewalk despite his super abilities. His milk and OJ hit the pavement unscathed, but Peter is scared to think of what happened to those eggs.

Grunting, he slowly tries to push himself up, only to find the change in elevation to make him a bit nauseous and dizzy. Just great. He probably has a concussion now. Just what he needs.

Peter tries again to lift his face off of the disgusting New York sidewalk and reclaim his groceries and dignity. He manages to get to a kneeling position without losing all of his balance, but his head is killing him, along with his funked up vision.

"Are you alright, son?" a voice says behind him as a firm hand clamps down on his shoulder. Peter jumps and turns around (quite delayed from his impaired reaction time). He looks at the man, trying to discern whether he is trustworthy or not. Sandy hair, broad shoulders, set jaw, kind but sad eyes, muscles. This guy really can't be more than 35. And spidey sense says not a threat.

"Kid?" he asks again, more concerned now that he hasn't heard a response from the kid.

"Huh?" Peter intelligently asks. Great. Now, this guy's gonna think he's an idiot. The man frowns at Peter. Something's definitely wrong. He looks into Peter's eyes: unseeing and vacant. Definite concussion.

"Here, kid, let me help you up," the man says, gently grabbing Peter's arms and lifting him to his feet before grabbing the kid's groceries.

"Thanks," Peter manages to tell him. "Who are you?" he stupidly asks out loud. The man chuckles.

"Anytime, kid. The name's Steve. And I'm sorry about the thing that hit your head. It was from a colleague of mine."

"You don't have very nice colleagues," Peter says under his breath, but Steve hears him anyway and chuckles.

"Guess it just comes in the business."

"Oh, yea? What do you do?"

"I used to be in the army, but now… I'll tell you all about it, but I'd like to get your head checked out first." Peter's jolted by that. Rule number one in New York: don't talk to strangers, even if they're nice. Rule 2: definitely don't go with someone you just met. But Peter is Spiderman. His spidey sense would have told him if Steve was a threat. And it was dead silent right now. So Peter agrees cautiously, ready to bolt or pounce at any given moment.

"We're going to my friend's tower. I have a friend who's a doctor and others who can asses battle injuries. And then the one who did this to you."

"Sounds like you have a lot of friends. And a rich one that is, if he or she has a whole tower."

"Yea. He's Tony Stark." Peter stops dead in his tracks at the name.

"T-Tony Stark? You're joking. I've read loads of his papers on his new tech and admire his research." Steve's eyebrow raises at that as he gets Peter to continue moving.

"You like science?"

"Like science? It's my favorite thing. I love chemistry, I love physics. Forensics is great too, but no offense, I don't like earth sciences. It's so boring to learn about sedimentary rock. And I've learned the layers of the Earth since third grade, I don't need to spend a month on it in my AP class…" Peter rambles on, a symptom of the concussion, he assumes. Steve doesn't try to stop the kid. It'll keep him occupied until Bruce can see him. Or at least Natasha. She knows more than a little bit about a lot of things.

"Well, if you like science, you'll like Dr. Banner," Steve interrupts the teen's rant of erosion.

"You don't mean to tell me he'll be there too?" Peter incredibly asks.

"Yep. He lives there."

"Great. Two of my idols in one day while I'm concussed. Who knows what stupid stuff I'll say. It'd be worse if I met Captain America too. Could you imagine? Me rambling off to him about this meaningless stuff like I am to you. Which I'm sorry about by the way. I can't seem to help that. It's not even as if I have a lot of thoughts right now. I just don't seem to have a filter in between the brain and mouth right now. You know, Gwen would know just what to do. She always knows. That's why she'll be valedictorian. And I won't be. Which is fine. She totally deserves it. I'm constantly late to class and missing homework when Flash takes it and rips it like today. Wish I could teach the guy a lesson. But he's huge and I've always been tiny. Gotta stay that way too. People would notice me if I didn't."

Steve just listens to Peter's one-sided conversation as they enter Avengers tower and enter the elevator where JARVIS alerts Dr. Banner of Steve's situation.

"… and I got detention because I was late to class because of him and without homework because of him. And because there was blood on the floor."

"Steve!" Bruce says as the elevator doors open to his lab.

"Dr. Banner," Steve says in greeting and ushers the suddenly silent Peter into the brightly lit room, making the teen wince at the pain it induces.

"It's nice to meet you, I'm Dr. Banner," Bruce sticks his hand out to Peter. Peter eventually shakes the man's hand due to his slow reaction time.

"I know," Peter stupidly says. Berating himself, he tries again. "It's nice to meet you, I'm a huge fan of your work. I've read your papers on the uses of gamma radiation. They were really fascinating." Bruce chuckles.

"I didn't think anyone under the age of twenty read them," Bruce laughs. Peter grows a tad shy at that.

"Dr. Banner, he got hit with one of Tony's test gauntlets. Right in the back of the head," Steve informs. Bruce shakes his head.

"I'll get Tony. He needs to fix this. Especially if you have a concussion," Bruce makes to leave but Tony walks into the room, quite somber. He sees Peter and walks up to him.

"Sorry kid. My gauntlet went through an open window and I couldn't call it back," Tony apologizes to Peter.

"It's ok, Mr. Stark." Peter jumps in realization. "But I do need to get back home. Crap, where are the groceries," Peter starts frantically looking around, but Steve gently pushes him back into the chair.

"You need to get checked out first, son. We can't have you walking around with a concussion in the middle of a busy New York street," Steve looks Peter in the eye. He just nods in understanding.

"Geez, Cap. Give the kid a break," Tony tells Steve. Wait. Did he say Cap? Oh no.

"You're Captain America?" Peter asks bewildered. Steve chuckles in response.

"Yep. But I still don't know your name."

"Peter."

"Well, Peter," Bruce continues, "I need to test you for a concussion. So if you don't mind, let's get started."

The whole situation went better than Peter planned. He does have a concussion, but in a couple of days, his advanced regenerative powers should help it clear up. No point in telling Aunt May then. Tony profusely apologized about twenty times, only serving to give Peter a bigger headache. They let him go only on the promise that he'd call if unforeseen problems arose so that Tony would help cover the bill.

Tony seemed awesome to Peter. The man was a genius. And Tony thought Peter was pretty cool too. So cool that he offered Peter to come over on Tuesdays to work in the lab. Of course, not tomorrow with his concussion, but next week, should he be cleared. As if Peter would go to a doctor.

After promising to call and come next Tuesday, Peter is handed back his groceries and sent home. Not too bad of a Monday after all.

Peter arrives home happy. It's been a while since he's actually felt happy after Uncle Ben's death. He drops the groceries on the kitchen table and begins to unload them.

"Peter?" Aunt May calls from upstairs.

"Yea, Aunt May?"

"Did you remember the groceries?" Peter rolls his eyes. He did manage to remember this time.

"Yep," he shouts back as he finishes putting the items away in their proper spots. As he closes the fridge, Aunt May comes down the stairs.

"How was your day at school?"

"Oh, same old, same old," Peter dismisses. "But I do have a lot of homework. And I'd like to get started on it as soon as I can."

"Well then, get to it," Aunt May orders. Peter bounds up the stairs two at a time before closing the room to his door. He throws his backpack onto the floor and lays down on his bed, thinking. What a crazy day. He met the Avengers. Well, some of the Avengers. And it was as Peter Parker, not Spiderman. Pretty cool.


	2. (also ch. 3 from other site)

Peter couldn't wait for Tuesday to come. With something as exciting as working in the same lab as Tony Stark awaiting him, the rest of the week seemed dull. Not to mention, Peter took a break from Spiderman for his concussion to heal so that he could sleep instead of fight crime. Smart, since it really did take only a week for it to heal. But Peter was dying for something exciting to happen. So when Tuesday finally came, he was nearly bouncing off the walls. Maybe he'd been a little over excited, but he hasn't been excited for anything since Uncle Ben died. And Aunt May seemed to leach off of his happiness, so for her, he'd keep it going.

Peter walked to school only thinking of meeting the Avengers once again. And maybe tonight, he'll go out on a light patrol. Only a couple of hours so that he can ease into it again. So he clearly wasn't paying attention to the one thing that could ruin his mood. Flash Thompson.

Flash comes up to the still distant minded Peter and knocks his books to the ground, right out of his hands.

"Oh, sorry Parker. Didn't see such a small bug like you walking here," he says as unapologetic as possible. "Maybe you should watch where you're going," he grumbles into Peter's face. His spit and teeth giving Peter the idea of Flash being a horse.

Ugh. Some days Peter wishes he could just wipe the floor with Flash. He's totally able to with his spider powers, but then his cover would be blown for something as insignificant as Flash. So once again, Peter controls himself and prepares himself to be a punching bag if it comes to it. But Peter is literally saved by the bell.

"This isn't over Parker," Flash warns. Ugh, that probably means that Peter can look forward to a complimentary beating after school today. No! He thought today was going to be great. He can't go to Tony Stark's if he's beaten into the pavement.

So instead of thinking of how great it's going to be working with Tony Stark and Bruce Banner today, Peter is dreading the end of school for the first time in the entire week.  
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

RIIIIIIIIIINNNGGGG. And last period of the day is dismissed. Instead of taking his normal amount of time to leave, Peter runs out the door, knocking into a few of his classmates on accident. With apologies thrown behind him, Peter uses a bit of his spider speed to make his way to the front exit as quick as possible. From there he can quickly make it to Avengers Tower. That's a sound plan. Peter's congratulating himself on a job well done before he even reaches the doors. And, boy, should he have waited. Flash and his goons are waiting at the doors for him. Peter skids to a stop. Damn. He was so close to missing the confrontation. He wasn't expecting Flash to plan ahead for this. He doesn't usually. And with that, Peter knows that he's screwed.

"Well, well, well, looks like little Parker here was just as eager to get squashed as we were to squash him," Flash laughs as he menacingly approaches Peter with his goons following close behind. Great. Just great. Peter backs up a bit, knowing its futile to run. And any of his sarcastic comments would not help him right now. So Peter subtly positions his body in a defensive position, ready to take the hits just in time.

Flash pounces on Peter, punching him in the stomach a couple of times before getting Peter's nose, successfully disorienting Peter. Flash's guys pin Peter against the wall, giving Flash easy shots to his internal organs. It may not hurt Peter as much as it would for a normal person, but Peter still would rather not get beat up. But alas, he can't fight them off, since he was never capable of that before the spider bite. So he hopelessly gets thrown around like a rag doll, hoping they'd let him go, but he didn't mean for them to drop him onto the ground. But they do anyway, and all of the guys get their turn to kick Peter while he's down, attempting to cover his face and torso by curling up into himself.

"THOMPSON! LLOYD! FITZPATRICK!" a teacher yells across the hall, running towards the group. Peter hears him more than sees him, with his eye swelling closed. Nevertheless, he's grateful for said teacher stopping the idiots from killing him. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he scolds the teens. "My office, now," he orders them, pointing to the room down the hall, and they wisely obey, leaving Peter and the teacher in the hall.

"Peter?" the teacher asks. Wait, this teacher knows him? Really? Peter tries to open his eyes. Oh! It's Mr. Snyder. Awesome. This guy is cool. He's Peter's drawing teacher. He's young, muscular, and chill, well, clearly not all of the time. He's chill when students aren't pummeling each other into the school tile.

"Oh hey, Mr. Snyder. How's it going?" Peter asks, trying to sit up against the wall.

"Are you alright?" he asks, squatting down to Peter's level.

"Me? Oh, yea, I'm fine. Perfectly fine. Actually, you can do one thing for me. What time is it?" Mr. Snyder snickers. Of course, Peter would still be ignoring the fact that he just got beat up.

"It's 2:55"

"Shit. I had somewhere to be 10 minutes ago."

"Well, you're going to have to call them and tell them you're not coming. I need to make sure you're okay and that this whole situation gets sorted out." He sees Peter's unwilling face. "Hey, this is something that needs to be done." Peter's unconvinced face becomes more prominent. "Alright, fine. I'll ask you what happened while we get some bandages and ice for you. Deal?"

"Mr. Snyder, you're the best," Peter tells one of his favorite teachers as he gets lifted up off of the floor and onto his feet. Mr. Snyder lays Peter's arm over his shoulders so that he can move the clearly disoriented and hurt teen to his classroom.

"Yea, well, I deserve that title, don't I? Saved you from those idiots. They never learn from all the detentions they've gotten."

"Well, Peter-hunting is one of their favorite pass times. I hear they're world-class at it." Once again, Mr. Snyder laughs.

"Guess it'll need to be made illegal at Midtown High. Can't have my favorite student looking black and blue every day, now can I?" Mr. Snyder opens the door to his empty classroom and sits Peter down in the closest chair. He leaves to dampen paper towels and wipes the blood off of Peter's face from his bloody nose. He gives Peter a tissue to attempt to stop the profuse bleeding of his nose.

"So why were they so mad this time?"

"They missed out on their morning pummeling. Bell cut 'em short," Peter says with his nose still clamped. Peter winces at the pressure on the cuts on his face.

"Sorry," Mr. Snyder apologizes. He peels some band-aids open and places them on the few cuts visible on Peter.

"Thanks, Mr. Snyder, but I gotta go," Peter stands up.

"Be careful Pete. I don't want you showing up to class even more beat up."

"Do my best!" Peter says as he walks out the door. Darn, he's going to be so late for his first lab time with the Tony Stark. What a great impression he's going to make. Late and looking like hell.  
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Uh, I'm here to see Mr. Stark," Peter nervously tells the women speaking at the front desk. They both turn to face him. The redhead standing up looks Peter over.

"Can I have your name?" she sweetly asks him.

"Oh, uh, yea. It's Peter. Peter Parker. Mr. Stark's invention hit me in the head last week and he invited me here," he explains while trying to calm his nerves. Recognition dawns on the woman's face.

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Parker. I heard what happened. I'm Pepper Potts," she tells him. Peter's eyes bug open wide, well, as much as their swollen-ness lets him.

"Y-you're Pepper Potts? CEO of Stark Industries?"

"The one and only," she laughs. "Come on, I'll take you to Tony. I'm sure he'll be quite happy to see that you made it. We thought that you were still not cleared since you didn't show up on time," she talks as they enter the elevator. "The lab, JARVIS," she says to the ceiling.

"Of course, Miss Potts," a voice rings out from nowhere, startling Peter.

"Sorry, that's JARVIS. He's Tony's AI. He runs everything around here. So don't be surprised if you hear him again." Peter nods as the elevator moves. "Tony should be in his lab with Dr. Banner. So we'll go there first. He'll be overjoyed to have you there. You know, he's been raving on all last week about the science kid with a concussion that's coming today. It'll be nice to finally placate him." Peter laughs. Tony Stark, excited to work with him? No freakin' way.

The elevator doors open to a large lab with multiple people diligently working. Pepper steps out and motions for Peter to follow.

"Tony," she calls. "Your guest is here." From across the room ahead pops up from their work, and Peter can only assume that's Tony as the man runs to them.

"Pepper! Peter! Glad you could make it," Tony extends his hand for Peter to shake, which Peter does.

"It's a real honor, Mr. Stark -"

"It's Tony, kid. When you say Mr. Stark, I wonder why you're talking to my dad." Peter nods. "Well, let's bring you back. I want to run some things by you, see where you're at and what you think of things. Bruce!" Tony yells, causing yet another man to pop up his head and walk over.

"Dr. Banner," Peter stammers and is greeted with a friendly smile and a handshake.

"Glad you could make it, Peter. I assume this means you're feeling better?" Peter nods. Gosh, why is he so speechless today? "It's great to have you here, but are you sure you're ok to be here?"

"Oh yea, no more headaches and dizziness whatsoever."

"No. We got that kid," Tony states. "But you look like you went a couple rounds with a gorilla." Oh. Right. He forgot his pains with the excitement of being here with two of his favorite scientists.

"The guy wasn't too much smarter than one," Peter remarks, making Tony laugh.

"Kid, I'm going to like you. How about this. Let's not get my lab bloody and we can work theoretically upstairs, ok?"

"Sure," Peter agrees.

"Great! Let's go to the kitchen. The family room's right off of it. Oh man, you'll get to see Cap again and meet all the Avengers."

"Woa. Really? That's awesome."

"Yes," Bruce says. "But I'm willing to bet that you haven't used any ice for the clearly painful hits to your ribs." Peter pales. How is he so observant. "Before we start, let's get you some ice," Bruce offers as they walk into the elevator that Pepper left in long ago.

"So, I don't mean to pry," Tony starts, "but what happened?"

Peter stops. He wasn't expecting Tony Stark to ask him why he looked so beat up. Usually, his advanced healing will clear bruises in minutes. Guess Flash really did a number on him.

"Just a kid at school. A real jerk if you ask me," Peter says as they enter the elevator. "But I'd rather not talk about it," Peter says, hoping to avoid their questions. Maybe they'll just forget. More likely, Peter will have to leave early. Like, really early. He can't have his bruises fading in minutes in front of the Avengers. They're bound to notice, and he'd rather keep Spidey a secret. He is a "vigilante" and "criminal" according to one J. Jonah Jamison. Peter really does hate his boss.

"Hope you got a couple of good throws in," Tony smiles jokingly as the elevator continues to ascend.

"Oh, yea. Totally. Kid took a swing and broke his own wrist," Peter jokes back, making even Bruce Banner chuckle. Peter can't believe how normal this feels: talking with his idols as if he belongs there with them. And Peter's not going to lie, it feels pretty amazing.

"I'm sure he's wishing he never messed with you, kid," Tony grins as he clasps his hand on Peter's shoulder, steering him out of the now open elevator. Smart, since Peter stopped dead in his tracks, in awe of how large and spectacular the level looked. Much nicer than Peter and Aunt May's apartment. In fact, their whole apartment could've fit on this one floor of Stark's tower easily.

Tony steers him into the kitchen with Bruce right behind. Peter can barely move his feet once he sees people in the kitchen.

It's Captain America. THE Captain America.

Calm down, Peter. It's only your greatest idol that you're meeting in the flesh. No big deal. Just remain cool and calm while - OH MY GOSH Captain America is walking up to Peter, looking as if he's about to shake his hand.

"Glad to see you back in one piece, son," Cap says, sticking out his hand. Peter reminds himself to breathe before meeting Steve's with his own, numbly taking this in. Captain freakin' America remembers him. This is so cool.

"Or, almost in one piece," Steve says, noticing Peter's bruises. That shakes Peter out of his stupor.

"Oh, yea. Well, I, uh-"

"He got beat up," Tony answers for him, and Peter can't decide whether he's annoyed or grateful at the billionaire's interruption of his eloquent speaking. Steve looks from Tony to Peter with a raised eyebrow that morphs into a more serious look.

"When did it happen?" he directs at Peter, who miraculously gains back his ability to speak sensibly.

"Oh, uh- after school today," Peter answers. When Captain America gives you that look and asks a question, you can't help but answer.

"And does it happen often?" Cap sees right through Peter. Maybe that's a superpower of his. Reading teenagers' secrets. Peter hopes not for his own sake.

"Well, often? Uh- not really too often per say. I wouldn't say it's - it's often, no." Cap raises his eyebrow to create the complete cut the crap look. "Uh, maybe, uh - intermittent is the word," Peter amends. "But it's not really a problem. I'm used to it. No need to worry." Cap sighs.

"Does anyone know?" he asks seriously. Wait, why does he care? Why do any of them care? He's just a random kid that got hit in the head by Tony's rouge gauntlet. They don't even know him. And why do they want to know about his bullies? It's not like it's a new occurrence, Peter's been dealing with it since he's been going to school with Flash.

"Uh, well, uh, yes, but it's not like they'll do anything. It's become too much of a habit for him. He never learns," Peter shyly tells him. "Plus, I don't want to worry Aunt May," he hastily adds in a much lower volume.

"You know, I used to get beat up all the time before I got the serum," Cap says, oddly enough, it chases Tony away from the floor. Maybe he's just heard it enough times? Whatever the reason, it befuddles Peter. He was here to be with the man, not Captain America. "You never want to stand down. But, there's nothing wrong in asking for help."

"Thanks," Peter replies to Cap's delight. Oh no, how long has it been? His bruises are probably fading already. He needs some excuse to leave early. Or he'll have to start punching himself in the bathroom. He really didn't enjoy that the last time when he needed to keep the bruises a little longer to not make Aunt May suspicious.

"How about you go home, Peter," Bruce says to Peter's confusion. Wait, he's not going to work with them today? Is he not going to find the other Avengers and meet them? "You've had a lot going on today, and I don't think Tony's up for working anymore," he smiles to Peter. Wow. How convenient.

"Ok. Should I - uh, come back next Tuesday then?"

"How about this Thursday. Two days should be enough." Enough for what, Peter doesn't know and won't find out. He's giddy once again to properly interact with them in two days' time.

"Awesome. Thanks! I'll see you Thursday!" Peter shouts to the two as he rushes to the elevator, praying that his bruising hasn't faded.

Once the doors shut, Bruce turns to Steve, saying, "Did you notice how he ran out without any pain? He didn't even have me wrap his ribs and he didn't take the ice I promised."

"Adrenaline?" Steve offers. "Didn't want to seem weak?"

"It's got to be more than that, Steve."


	3. Chapter 3

Peter breathed in the horrid New York air. Ahhh. What a comfort to smell it from the rooftops. Much less pungent. But maybe his mask was helping filter out the odors. Whatever it is, Peter tries not to question it. He's simply happy to be back web-slinging over his favorite city after his week hiatus. Those seven days were excruciating, waiting to meet the Avengers and be back on patrol. But today had been kind of a bust with them. Between his lateness, injury, and accidental warding off of Tony Stark, Peter was asked to leave and come back Thursday. Fine. It's fine, he's only been torturing himself with his excitement and anxiety over meeting them. No big deal.

Peter's snapped out of his thoughts by his police pager going off. Huh. Fire and bank robbery a couple blocks from here. Peter looks in that direction and sure enough, sees gray smoke rising through the air, beginning to blacken. Oh no. If it turns black, the firemen can't do anything except let it burn. Better start swinging, Spidey.  
______________________________________________________________________

Spidey arrives at the fire and drops down behind the police in order to hear more of the situation.

"-three more still inside the apartment next to it."

"And the robbers, Chief?"

"MIA. Could still be in the fire they set, in the jewelry store or apartment, or, most likely, gone. No identification other than 3 males. All over 5'5". Gotta see if the security footage isn't burnt to a crisp. Have the men continue to cover the exits -" Spiderman's heard enough info to formulate his plan. Save the civilians from the fire before going after the criminals. Right, easy enough in theory. He's only got to search the building for three people while it's actively burning.

Smoke inhalation, here he comes.

Spidey stealthily moves over to the apartment building, assessing the best point of entry. By the looks of it, the firemen have already searched the bottom three floors. Only three more to go. Maybe he can meet them halfway and start from the top. Risky, but there are more important things at stake than Peter getting a small burn. Peter takes a deep breath. It's fine. Totally fine. Just stay calm. He's only entering a burning building. It hasn't collapsed... yet.

Before his thoughts get the best of him, Peter takes a deep breath and aims his web shooter to pull himself to the top of the building. Upon reaching the top floor, Peter twists himself so that he crashes through the window. Shaking his head and quickly getting to his feet, Peter begins searching for people after brushing off the broken glass.

"HELLO? Is anyone there?" he shouts through the roar of the fire. No response. Of course not. So Peter moves quickly through the rooms, searching for unconscious or scared people. He doesn't have much time. The building could collapse, the top floors could become engulfed in flames, or the floor could fill with dark oppressive smoke, inhibiting his breathing. How pleasant.

Peter searches room after room until he's looked through the entire sixth floor without a trace of a person or animal. Well, that's good then. They must've gotten out. So, without wasting any time, Peter descends to the fifth floor where smoke has replaced his beloved nitrogen-oxygen air. Taking a deep breath of clean air, Spiderman rushes into the smoke in search of people the best he can. He uses his Spidey senses to guide him around dangers (including walls and tables) and listens with his heightened hearing for anyone. And it's in the third room that he finally hears something.

There's a little girl crying and whimpering next to her unconscious mother.

"Hey, I'm Spiderman. I need to get you out of here, it's not safe," he tells the little girl, trying to be gentle, but urgency is more important here. If he needs, he'll just scoop her up and climb down the building. She looks at him in fear. Not fear of him, Peter realizes, only fear of leaving her mother.

"It's okay. I'll get her out too," he says, approaching her, beginning to cough from the smoke. "Are you ready?" he wheezes out. She nods and Peter scoops her up into his arms and climbs down the side of the building, trying to avoid most of the fire, which is more difficult than he'd like. The young girl screams as he ends up jumping down the last three floors onto the concrete.

"Stay here, ok? See those policemen?" he points them out to the girl, "go to them. Tell them you were up there, ok? They'll take care of you. I'm going to go get Mom." Peter stands up and shoots a web to hoist himself back up to the fifth-floor room where the unconscious woman is.

Peter lifts the woman up, thank you super strength, and carefully drapes her over his shoulder so that he can keep her and himself safe while exiting the building. By the time he's landed and laid the woman onto the pavement, paramedics are already there, attending to the young girl and waiting to help the mother. Wow, that little girl must've told them. Good. One less thing for Peter to do.

"Spiderman," one of the paramedics grab his arm. "You can't go back in there. You'll need your lungs checked out too. Let the firefighters handle this." The man looks at Peter determinedly.

"All due respect, sir, but the building is going to collapse any moment. And they need as much help as they can get." Peter pulls his arm out of the man's grasp and once again, enters the building. And oh man, does he wish he could've headed the paramedic's advice. The place looks like it really will collapse at any given moment. Gotta hurry. So Peter speeds through the rest of the rooms, coughing and desperately trying to breathe while using his webs to try and buttress some of the walls.

And Spiderman is quite glad once he realizes he's checked the whole floor. That means there's only the fourth left and the firemen have probably checked it. Good. Because his vision is already becoming spots, and his chest feels so tight, and his lungs are desperate for one inhale of clean diatomic oxygen. Too bad he's still gotta make sure the firemen know the rest of the building is done. So Peter stumbles down the stairs, further into the smoke and flames.

Peter feels like crying once he sees the light from the firemen.

"Hey! Kid!" one of them yell.

"Sp-Spiderman?" another firefighter stutters.

"Yea. Your friendly" - cough- "neighborhood" - cough - "Spiderman" -cough. Peter grimaces at his own voice. "Upstairs is good." Cough. "You guys need to go. This place is gonna-"

Peter feels his spidey sense tingle, causing him to look up. And sure enough, the ceiling beam is about to give out on top of the firefighter nearest to him. Peter sprints to the man and barrels him towards the exit with all his strength, just in time for him to catch the ceiling beam.

"Spidey!" one of them yells through their mask.

"GO! Get out of here," Peter yells back under the pain of holding up the ceiling. He can only hold it for so long under the circumstances: little oxygen, build up of lactic acid, and crumbling building. Not to mention, the beam itself is quite hot, even through the gloves from his suit. They are only spandex for heaven's sake. Peter can hear them quickly shuffle out with their heavy gear since his vision can't tell him much between the smoke and black spots. Just when he thinks he can't hold it any longer, Peter pushes the beam behind him, against the will of his screaming muscles and lungs, and runs toward the window in one swift movement, catapulting out and onto the pavement where nothing breaks his ungraceful fall.

Ugh. That must've looked so cool. Especially if he could've seen it in slow motion. Peter takes a moment just laying on the cool pavement, relishing the different temperature, no matter how disgusting the street may be. He only moves a muscle when he hears the building collapse, sending embers and sparks into the air as rain to fall down upon the people. Peter tries to stand up, feeling the overwhelming pain and ache of his body and lungs, and swings away to a nearby rooftop, far enough away from the first responders so that they can do their job and so that they don't go after him. He's already beaten up enough as it is.

Peter tiredly collapses on the roof, ripping off his mask as he heavily coughs and gasps for air. Damn. His mask doesn't block smoke out as a good as it does smells. Smoke inhalation is no fun. Peter's throat feels on fire as if razor blades got caught up in a tornado in his esophagus. And his lungs. Oh man. They burn. And Peter's still coughing, not getting a lot of oxygen.

He's unpleasantly surprised when his stomach rebels and vomits up his dinner. Ugh. Now his throat burns even more. And his head. Good Lord, it hurts. That's probably from the carbon monoxide. And his eyes are so irritated. Ugh. It's times like these that Peter is ever so grateful for his advanced healing.

He's so tired, that Peter stays laying on the roof, unable to see the stars from light pollution, and tries to think of an excuse before heading home. Maybe it'll be a good one this time.  
______________________________________________________________________

It's 3 am when Peter noiselessly sneaks back into his room and removes the clothing and pillows he's stuffed under the covers to make a Peter-like lump. Suppressing his moans of pain, Peter strips off his suit, still smelling like smoke, and throws on pajamas before hiding under the covers for a nice three-hour sleep. He can't bring himself to care that his bed will smell like smoke in the morning. He just really wants to sleep. So he does.

Beep-beep. Beep-beep. Peter slams his hand on the alarm clock, hating that noise. Doesn't it know he was out really late and would love ten more hours of sleep?

"Peter?" Aunt May calls through the door. "Time to rise and shine. You've got an hour before leaving," he hears before the sound of her feet fade away down the hall.

Unhappy, Peter climbs out of bed slowly, still tired and achy from the night, or really, from the early morning. He shuffles his way to the bathroom and strips down to take a shower. He still smells like smoke, and he'd rather not find some excuse for that to tell Aunt May.

Peter scrubs his hair three times before giving up. He still smells like smoke, and he just can't seem to get all of the soot out. Maybe there's something that can mask the scent... Peter eyes Aunt May's flower shampoo, considering his options. Smell like smoke or smell like a flower and get teased. Peter almost has to fight himself to pick up the other shampoo. He really doesn't want to. Flash will have prime bullying material if he gets too close. Lilacs and roses just don't seem manly enough.

Whatever. He'll deal with it. Giving it his best evil eye, Peter pours the pink shampoo into his hand and scrubs it in.  
______________________________________________________________________

"Peter, you've got only seven minutes, young man, to eat and get going to school," Aunt May scolds as he hastily walks into the kitchen with his backpack slung over his shoulder.

"Yes, Aunt Ma-", Peter begins to say, only for his voice to croak and wither. Aunt May notices too.

"Peter? Are you feeling alright?" she asks, concern washing over her eyes. Ugh. He hates worrying Aunt May.

"Yea. Yea. I uh- it's probably some, some overnight thing. You know? Harry was sick the other day. Must've, uh-gotten it from him," Peter croaks. Yup. Lost his voice from smoke inhalation. And did he mention it hurts? Because guess what, it hurts! Not as much as that one time he was thrown through a wall though...

"Do you want to stay home?" she asks, stepping closer to him. Aunt May lays the back of her hand on Peter's forehead. "Hmm. A little warm," that'd be his healing factor kicking in. "Are you sure you need to go to school?"

"Yea," Peter disappointedly responds. It's so difficult to catch up on work when you're out of school for so long. He'd just rather go. "I've got a Chemistry test and a math quiz. I don't want to miss them."

"Alright, but eat something now before rushing out the door." Peter nods his head to placate Aunt May. There's no way he'd be able to eat anything right now. Even drinking sounds painful to his throat. "I love you, Peter. Have a good day at school and call if you're feeling bad. You hear me?"

"Yes, Aunt May," Peter barely manages to say. She gives him a pitying look before pressing a kiss to the top of his head, ruffling his hair, and heading out the door to start her own day.

Peter can't help but dread the day if this is how it's starting out. But maybe it'll get better from now?  
______________________________________________________________________

Peter couldn't have been more wrong. The day definitely did not get better. In fact, he was late to class despite his best efforts, saw Flash eyeing him up from the end of the hall, breathing like a bull ready to charge, and disappointed Mr. Snyder by coming to school "more beat up". Well, usually he'd heal faster when it isn't his lungs. And he did inhale a lot of smoke. Really, the only bright spot in his day was seeing Gwen again, since she had been on vacation with her family for over a week (in California no less), leaving Peter at school pretty much all alone except for Harry. And it was good seeing her until she noticed in a couple of seconds that Peter could barely talk, and when he did, it was quite painful between all his wheezing and coughing. At that point Peter gave up, resigning himself to his temporary mute fate.

And so Peter's day went by uneventfully as he paid attention in some classes, fell asleep in others, and evaded Flash at the end of the day. And Peter was grateful for a normal day. Well, as normal as it gets for Peter Parker, he is Spiderman after all.

So Peter is pleasantly surprised to see normal crimes tonight. And not that many as he normally sees. And Peter knows he should be suspicious, but it's nice to just enjoy an easy night, especially after the last. He's still trying to recover from it, and his voice is almost back, which Peter is also grateful for. Wow. He'll be back to normal tomorrow. That's nice. That happy feeling follows Peter as he stops two muggings. Nice.

But of course, nice things can't last for Peter, or else the world as we know it would end. Some balance in the universe would be thrown way off scale.

Peter's bubble is popped when he hears multiple screams down the street. Without hesitating, Peter slings a web and swings his way over NYC to the sounds of fear. Please let it be something easy or really cool. Like some other superhero is already on the situation, fixing this, or there's a dinosaur. But Peter knows that won't happen, the other superhero, not the dinosaur; he's still holding out hope to see a T-rex in New York. Other superheroes don't seem to have the time or the care to help out citizens with pettier crimes. The hot-shots can only help when there's an alien invasion or something big and scary like that.

Peter's attention is snapped back into place when his spidey-sense uselessly warns him of the danger he's seeing. Dr. Connors is here. Or, really, the Lizard. Really? Peter already beat this guy and put him in prison. Does he have to deal with him again? Apparently yes, since the Lizard rips off a stop sign and starts throwing it at the citizens near him.

Peter swings in, without another thought and webs up the stop sign Dr. Connors is holding.

"Pretty sure you've already had three strikes, buddy. Time to move along for the next batter," Peter yells out as he yanks the stop sign out of the Lizard's hands, much to Lizard's surprise.

"Spider-man," he seethes. He jumps towards Spiderman, ignoring the citizens he was just terrorizing. Peter dodges and sprays webbing into Lizard's eyes, distracting him. Peter punches Lizard in the stomach, easing up on the amount of force he holds back. Lizard flies backward into a nearby brick wall, cracking it.

"Oh man, a home run!" Peter exclaims as he wraps Dr. Connors in webbing. "Wow! Spiderman'll be going to the championships," Peter continues talking as he finishes wrapping the Lizard in webbing. Wow. A job well done. Just gotta wait for the cops to ar -

Peter' spider sense goes off the hook, causing Peter to turn around in a defensive position to see a tall eight-legged man-thing. What is happening in New York these days? One of the legs come out and hit Peter into the same wall that Dr. Connors is stuck too. But Peter goes through the wall, breaking through brick, plaster, and paint. Ugh. Not fun.

Peter groggily pulls himself up and gingerly exits the wall to see the strange new thing cutting Connors free from his webbing. Just great. He thought he'd won.

"Come on, man. I was almost done here," Peter yells to get the thing's attention.

Huh. Looks like the center is actually some dude.

"Dude, what is up with this machinery?" Peter asks as he jumps away from the long leg slamming down at him. "What are you supposed to be? Another spider? Because that's already taken and I kind of rock it." The man scowls as he tries in vain to hit Peter.

"Stay still, pest," he yells at Peter.

"Oh, so I'm a pest? That's new. Menace, vigilante, criminal, handsome, but not pest. I suppose you'll say something like 'I'LL SQUASH YOU LIKE A BUG' or some cheesy thing like that." The man yells in annoyance again as Peter webs together some of the artificial legs and climbs up another, trying to get closer to the man. "Hmmm. You got a name? Cause I'll have to make one up if you don't."

Suddenly the man swings his arm at Peter again. Man is that getting old. But the dude reaches out another arm that grabs Peter around the neck, cutting off oxygen. Not again.

"That's better. You talk too much Spiderman," the bad guy smiles wickedly. "I don't expect you to know me. I am Otto Octavius. And I'll be the one to squash the spider once and for all."

"C-called it," Peter chokes out through the choke hold. The robotic hand only tightens its grip. That's sure to leave a bruise. Peter starts punching the arm and kicking around, seeing if he can find a weak spot. Guess not. Peter looks at the man again, lungs screaming for air and vision beginning to strain.

"I'm tired of you, Spiderman. It's time New York met Dr. Octavius and Dr. Connors." Peter frantically tries to formulate a plan. He can't breathe and his vision is rapidly darkening. He painfully pulls his arm up to shoot webbing at Dr. Octavius' face. "Argh," Peter hears Dr. Octavius exclaim as the hold around his neck drops away, dropping Peter as well onto the pavement, coughing and gasping for breath.

"Doctor," the Lizard says, warning him to look a certain way. Octavius manages to cut the webbing off of his glasses with blades in time to see the police cars arriving at the scene. Better run off into the dark.

"This is not over, Spiderman," Octavius says as he picks Peter up and throws him through the corner glass window of a building as he and the Lizard leave. Peter is thrown with enough force that he smashes through the entering window and the exit window before falling towards the New York street. Even through the pain, Peter manages to attach a web to the next building, saving him from becoming a splat on the pavement. Lightheaded and not thinking clearly, Peter manages to land on top of the building where he promptly lays down.

Ow. Okay, ow. Breathing hurts quite a bit. And so does swallowing. Just great. He was this close to back to normal after last night's fire. And getting another throat injury is not going to help him recover. Not to mention, smashing through brick and glass is not fun.


	4. Chapter 4

Thursday is not Peter's favorite day of the week. First off, it's torture knowing that you still have to wait a full day for the weekend. Second, Peter has to meet with his boss, J. Jonah Jameson, every Thursday to hand in any pictures of Spiderman. And he'll just be assigned to take more. Take pictures of Spiderman, preferably where he's terrorizing New York. Easy enough since Peter knows where Spiderman is going to be every night. It's just tough to explain how he got those pictures. Thankfully, Mr. Jameson doesn't tend to ask questions. He just takes Peter's photos, uses them, and gives Peter his paycheck every other Friday. And Peter's fully content with that. Pretty easy money for him.

But it's simply strange for him. Mr. Jameson isn't all that bad when Peter meets with him, but he is just brutal towards Spiderman. It makes Peter wonder what his boss would do if he ever found out who was really behind the mask. Not that he's willing to risk that. Ever.

So Peter has that to look forward to after school. And school so far is pretty rough. Peter's throat still hurts, making it hard to swallow or breathe. He actually started drooling once because he couldn't bring himself to swallow his saliva. But, when Peter thinks about it, having his voice gone again is keeping everyone from getting suspicious over quick healing. And his hoodie paired with Gwen's make-up knowledge makes the bruises completely unnoticeable. Well, unnoticeable unless you were specifically searching for them. So really, it's only the pains and discomforts Peter has to worry about.

When he pulled himself out of bed this morning, his limbs felt like frozen tree branches: immobile and ridiculously heavy. Even his back stung in the shower from the glass pieces that he didn't manage to remove last night. The rest of his cuts had closed up without any residue. Thanks, spidey powers.

Peter takes a deep breath and calms himself down. He only needs to worry about meeting Mr. Jameson and then the Avengers. Last time the Avengers had dismissed him almost as soon as he arrived. Peter's still trying to figure out what he did wrong to upset Mr. Stark. He never meant to be late. Was that it? Or was it something else he did? Peter tries to put it out of his mind as he devotes his attention to the last few minutes of Chemistry, the last class of the day. Not that he needs to; Chemistry's really easy for him.  
____________________________________________________________________________________

"It just seems weird, you know? Like, who needs mechanical arms?" Gwen ponders as she walks with Peter at the end of the school day.

"To look cool?" Peter suggests. "Well, he could've done it better. It wasn't that cool."

"He almost strangled you and you're concerned with the felon's fashion sense?!" Gwen yells at him in a hushed voice, making Peter raise his hands in an act of defeat.

"You asked for my opinion," Peter responds. "I'm just trying to see this from all angles." Gwen hits the back of his head with her notebook.

"Peter Parker, you better start taking this seriously, or so help me I'll hit you with all four of my AP textbooks."

"Harsh," Peter jokes.

"You've had worse," Gwen responds, trying to remain serious, but losing the fight to her smile.

"Well, I'll probably get worse. I've got to see Jameson today. And then the Avengers."

"Ooo. Fun," Gwen sarcastically comments. "I know how much you love your meetings with Jameson. Have fun, webhead," Gwen says as she leaves for the bus, leaving Peter alone to face the rest of his day.

Ooo, fun is right.  
____________________________________________________________________________________

"Mr. Jameson?" Peter says as he knocks on his boss' open door. Mr. Jameson pulls his head up from reading the papers on his desk. As head of the Daily Bugle, he does have a lot of work to do.

"Peter! Come in," he invites the teen into his office with a smile as he stands up. Peter walks in and sits in his usual chair in front of the desk and Mr. Jameson sits on the corner of his desk. "I was in a pickle after you didn't show up last week. The rest of my photographers don't take pictures nearly as good as you do." Peter almost blushes at the compliment.

"Yea, sorry about that Mr. Jameson. I called in last week because I had a concussion. Taking pictures was giving me headaches. But I'm good this week."

"Glad to hear it. Do you have anything for me this week?" Jameson asks. Peter's got to hand it to the man, he's nothing if not straightforward.

"Yea, but it's not much. I could only start doing things on Tuesday." Well, with "things" being more than just photography. Peter rummages through his backpack to find his folder where he has some printed pictures and his flash drive. The USB stick has all of Peter's photos still in digital format. Peter grabs them and hands them to his boss.

"But I was lucky. I heard Spiderman wasn't really sighted while I was off," Peter tries to instigate more conversation.

"Yep. That wall-crawling menace stopped for a week. Better get hurt more often there, Parker," Jameson kindly jokes, looking Peter in the eye with a smile. Peter may never understand how his boss can really like him, but hate his alter ego with a passion.

"Yessir," Peter laughs, trying not to take offense.

"These are pretty good, Parker. But I hope you have more on the drive."

"Yea, there's more on there that I didn't get time to edit. But I figured you'd want to see them anyway."

"Absolutely. We need as many pictures of Spiderman as we can get. We need to get the word out there about the danger he poses. Good work Parker. Take it easy this week. You need to stay low after your hit to the head. Plus, you sound like you're coming down with something," Mr. Jameson orders. Wow, J. Jonah Jameson really does have a heart.

"Alright. Will do, Mr. Jameson," Peter says as he stands up, slinging his bag over his shoulder and walks out the door. Wow. That went really well. Peter thought that Jameson was going to be furious at his absence last week. Apparently not.

Maybe the rest of the day will follow suit. But Peter won't get his hopes up too high. Just in case.  
____________________________________________________________________________________

Is he really going to meet the Avengers?

Peter asks himself this question multiple times as he stands in front of the glass doors. He's too anxious to enter. What if he makes a fool of himself? What if they dismiss him again? What if they try to find out more about him? There are so many what-ifs that Peter feels rooted to the sidewalk.

It's strange that he gets nervous sometimes since he's always confident once he dawns the Spiderman mask. Well, sometimes he gets scared, but he's never felt like this as Spiderman. Only as poor Peter Parker. At least he's not a nervous wreck as Spiderman, then he'd be an even worse hero.

Peter shakes his head. It'll be fine. It'll be fine. He'll do fine. It's all fine.

So Peter extends his arm and pushes the glass door to Stark/Avengers Tower open. Without letting himself think about it, he walks up to the front desk where the same woman from last time is sitting, typing away. Best to just get it over with, Parker.

"Ah! Mr. Parker! Glad you could make it," the woman exclaims. "Mr. Stark is currently waiting for you on the twenty-first floor. Just take the center elevator there," she smiles as she indicates which elevator to take.

"Ok. Uh- thank you," Peter responds. Wow. She remembered him too. That's so cool. Peter walks to the elevator and enters once it opens.

"Welcome back, Mr. Parker," a voice rings from the ceiling as the doors close, making Peter jump and almost attach to the wall. Oh, right. It's just Mr. Stark's AI, JARVIS.

"Thanks, JARVIS," Peter replies, attempting to calm his breathing after that scare.

"It seems that Mr. Stark is in the communal kitchen attempting to make coffee. Shall I direct the lift to that level?"

"Uh, yea. Thanks, JARVIS."

Peter steps out of the elevator to the twenty-first floor of Avenger's Tower and is stunned by the view inside and out. Stark really does have it good. Peter can see so much of New York's skyline and buildings from the grandiose windows. Maybe he should swing to the top of Mr. Stark's tower some time; he really does love being so high up.

"Peter!" Mr. Stark happily yells upon seeing the teen. He's walking out of what Peter assumes is the kitchen with a cup of coffee and a tablet. "You made it! I've got some cool stuff I want to show you. Started making them Tuesday."

"Sounds cool, Mr. Stark," Peter croaks out. Ugh, his voice is really starting to annoy him.

"What happened to you, kid? You sound like a dying toad," Mr. Stark inquires, stepping closer, concern covering his face.

"I think I came down with something Tuesday night." Yep, best to keep with the lie he told Aunt May. That's easiest. Sometimes keeping a secret can be really hard.

"Kid, it hurts to hear you talk. Why don't we get you some tea or something? Bruce loves that stuff, maybe he'll help." Mr. Stark beckons Peter to follow him back into the kitchen where Peter assumes Dr. Banner is.

"Hey, Bruce. Do you want to use your tea connoisseur knowledge and help Peter choose a tea for his throat?" Mr. Stark calls to Dr. Banner who is at the counter, reading off a tablet. Bruce turns his head around to Tony and Peter.

"Uh, sure. Hello there, Peter," Bruce says, standing up to retrieve his box of tea bags in the cabinet after quickly shaking Peter's hand.

"Hi Dr. Banner," Peter pitifully rasps.

"Yikes. You really do need tea. Are you alright with chamomile? It should really help a sore throat." But probably not Peter's, since it's sore for other reasons. Oh man, does he wish it were from an illness. But Peter hasn't gotten sick in months because of his powers.

"Sure." Dr. Banner pulls a tea bag out of his impressive container and gives it to Peter to hold. While Dr. Banner gets a mug and fills it with hot water, Mr. Stark sits down next to Peter.

"Hey, kid. Sorry about Tuesday," Mr. Stark begins his apology. "Didn't mean to leave you there." He sheepishly smiles and rubs the back of his neck after setting down his coffee and tablet.

"It's ok, Mr. Stark. It was probably good I didn't stay. I ended up getting ice and stuff," Peter tries to make the genius feel better. He really doesn't want to be asked to leave early again.

"Guess I won't be getting you to call me Tony," Mr. Stark trails off with a smile again.

"Yea. I wanted to ask you about that, Peter. Not the name. Why didn't you stay for ice here? I had offered it," Dr. Banner asks, handing the warm mug over to Peter and sitting down in a chair.

"Oh, uh. I - uh, just wanted to get home." Peter was not expecting this. "Plus, it wasn't that bad. I've had worse."

"I can't imagine your parents were too happy seeing you come home beat up," Mr. Stark jokes. Peter freezes. Is he supposed to say it's just him and Aunt May? He doesn't want their pity, and he's not completely sure if he can trust them. But it's not like he's going to outright lie to THE Tony Stark and Bruce Banner. They're two of his favorite scientists. And they'd find out one way or another, they're both very smart.

"Peter?" Mr. Stark questions, concerned at the lack of response.

"Huh? Oh. They- uh, well..." When did he ever become this tongue-tied? Smooth, Parker. Smooth. "Aunt May wasn't too happy. But nothing really phases her anymore."

"You live with your aunt and uncle?"

"No," Peter becomes downcast and stares at the mug in his hands. "Just Aunt May and I."

Peter looks up to see Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner sharing a concerned look before focusing on him again. Mr. Stark becomes thoughtful and opens his mouth-

But Peter is startled by his spidey sense erupting into tingles-

"Stark, I swear, if you were the one who took my compact taser, I will skin you alive until-," a woman walks into the kitchen and stops yelling. Her red hair adds to the fire of her anger before it dissipates in Peter's presence. "Who's this?" she asks Dr. Banner and Mr. Stark.

"Uh- this is Peter. Peter Parker. You know. The one who got hit by Mr. Stark's errant gauntlet a couple days back," Bruce explains. The woman unnervingly stares at Peter, as if she's sizing him up and analyzing everything about him. Peter can feel his spidey sense warn him that something's up with her. It's only after one awkward moment of silence that she steps forward with her hand extended towards Peter.

"It's nice to meet you, Peter, I'm Agent Romanoff," she says while staring at Peter's neck. Oh no. Does she see his bruises? They're impossible to see. But she looks away without saying anything about them.

"It's nice to meet you too," Peter responds in his croak, kind of surprised. Agent? Agent of what? The FBI? CIA? Real Estate? Travel? And why was she here? Is she the cause of his spidey sense going off? She looks scary enough that Peter wouldn't put it past her.

"You'd probably know her better as the Black Widow," Mr. Stark offers, trying to clear things up for the teen.

"A spider?" Peter asks. Just like him.

"I didn't choose the name. But I've kept it," she eerily says, clearly not wanting to elaborate further.

"Where are the feathers and ice pop?" Mr. Stark asks only for Black Widow to roll her eyes.

"They're in the gym trying not to kill each other," she offers before striding past them to get herself something from the kitchen, apparently dropping her previous argument with Mr. Stark. For now. Mr. Stark's ear will probably fall off later. Better than getting skinned though.

"Cool. Thanks, Nat." Nat? "Alright, kid," Mr. Stark says. "Ready to meet the rest of the team? Well, you've already seen Cap. And Thor will have to wait since he's in a debriefing. You know, secret stuff." Mr. Stark stands up and waits for Peter to do so as well.

When he does, Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner lead him to the elevator once more and ask JARVIS to take them to the gym level. To which, the British AI does, showing Peter the largest gym he's seen in his life. And the strangest. There seem to be multiple sports combined into one area. There's three boxing rings, multiple boxing bags, weights everywhere, balance beams, gun and archery ranges, and ropes for climbing. Peter can only guess it's what every superhero needs in a gym. Too bad Peter can't use it.

And in the center boxing ring is two men, which one Peter identifies as Captain America. The other is blond too, and it looks like another man was reffing the match if that's the sort of thing superheroes do.

"Capsicle!" Mr. Stark calls to the men in the ring. Three heads turn around to see Peter standing in between Tony and Bruce. Steve steps out of the ring, holding the ropes open for the other man and following him to Tony and Bruce.

"Peter, it's nice to see you, son. And it's nice seeing you in one piece," Steve claps a hand on Peter's shoulder with a lot of force, but it doesn't faze Peter. With his super strength, well, it didn't really feel that different from a normal pat on the back. Well, that's what Peter tells himself as Cap hit a bruise from last night that's fading admirably.

"Thanks, Cap," Peter manages to say through his impaired speaking. Steve's face immediately drops. Peter is in fact, not in one piece, then.

"Or almost in one piece. Sick?" Steve asks.

"My friend was sick the other day, could've gotten it from him. I don't feel too sick though," Peter says. That's mostly true. Harry really was sick, the jerk, leaving Peter alone at school. And he doesn't feel sick. Peter really doesn't want to lie to Captain America, but he can't outright tell him the truth. Secret identity and all that jazz.

"I hope it doesn't stay then. Here, let me introduce you to the rest of the team," Steve changes topics, sensing the teen's discomfort. "Peter, this is Hawkeye and Falcon," Steve gestures to the two men behind him.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Clint Barton," the blond in a weird cross of purple and black gruffly says to Peter. Peter senses that he's not intending to be intimidating and that it's simply the man's normal demeanor. Kind of like a father...

"And I'm Falcon. But just call me Sam. Sam Wilson," the other man says, sticking a hand out to Peter. Peter shakes it, slightly shocked to be meeting the Avengers. "It's nice to meet you. You got Steve and Tony here talking non-stop about out you," he jokes around, making Peter smile. Oh right, Captain America's name is Steve Rodgers. WAIT. DID SAM JUST SAY THAT CAPTAIN FREAKING AMERICA AND TONY STARK WERE TALKING ABOUT HIM?!

"So how is your head? I did hear about that one," Sam pulls Peter out of his thoughts.

"Oh, my head is good. Great, actually," Peter, unsurprisingly, croaks out. Wow. He'll never make a good impression on his heroes at this point.

"Glad to hear it, son," Cap says to Peter. "So you came to do whatever in Tony's labs?"

"Yea. Hopefully," Peter takes a sip of his tea. Yuck. Peter's more of a coffee type of guy, but it's such a kind gesture that he won't make a sour face or pour it out.

"Well, don't let us stop you. But do call if you need to get busted out of all that science jargon," Cap jokes to Peter. Woa. He's so cool.

"Uh- yea, yea," Peter says back, a bit shocked that Captain America is joking around with plain old Peter Parker.

"Ha ha, Steve. I'll have you know that Peter's quite happy to be here to work in my labs. So keep your little circus act down here, and away from the chemicals," Tony jokes back before directing Peter towards the elevator once more with a hand to the shoulder.

Wow. Peter just met the Avengers. The Avengers. Well, except for Thor. But that probably would've all been too much in one day. And now he gets to work with Tony Stark and Doctor Bruce Banner. When did Peter's life become so cool?  
____________________________________________________________________________________

"No, no. Atomic radius trend increases this way," Mr. Stark points out on Peter's periodic table with his pen. "And the ionization energy is this way, and then the electronegativity goes this way," he finishes mapping on the table. Peter stares puzzled at the paper.

"But not all of the elements follow the trend," Peter clarifies.

"Right. And it's all to do with the protons and electrons with the subshells like we said before," Dr. Banner explains to Peter from across the table.

"Oh. So it's really not that complicated. But what about all the d-shell elements? They don't reach the octet," Peter croaks his question. Man, is he getting tired of croaking everything. It's really starting to hurt his ears and throat.

"Did you learn that in class yet?"

"No. But I'd like to know now so that I don't miss anything if I fall asleep in class," Peter tells the two men helping him study for his AP Chemistry test tomorrow. Tests on Fridays are no fun.

"Quick! Electron Configuration of Strontium!" Mr. Stark quizzes Peter. He looks at the table and reads across for the subshells.

"Uh, 38 electrons... uh, Krypton..." Peter works through the levels in his head. "[Kr] 5s2," Peter states, nearly sure of his answer. Dr. Banner looks at the table, and after solving it himself, he too agrees with Peter.

"I think you'll do well, kid," Mr. Stark tells Peter, making the kid sheepishly smile. Peter was surprised that after Mr. Stark bounced some ideas off of Peter on new inventions, they offered to help him study for Chemistry. It was pretty surreal to be working on homework with two of his greatest science idols.

"Thanks, Mr. Stark," Peter smiles. He just got complimented by Tony Stark. That's so cool.

"So what did you think of the team, Peter?" Dr. Banner asks him.

"Uh, they were really cool. But uh - Agent Romanoff was kind of scary," Peter admits. Plus she seems a little too observant for the safety of Peter's secret identity. Tony chuckles at Peter's response.

"She'd love to hear that, kid. She works hard on looking scary," Tony laughs.

"What is she an agent of? I know some real estate agents can be pretty tough, but she brings it to a whole new level."

"Ever hear of SHIELD?" Tony asks. Peter shakes his head. He hasn't heard of SHIELD, but it must be pretty top secret.

"They're a secret government agency. Like the secret service. But more overseeing of everything. They started the Avengers by the way. They're not that bad. Plus, I know the two people who founded it. And one was the best person I've ever known," Tony wistfully says, as if he's trying to remember the person in vivid detail. Peter's face dawns a look of puzzlement, but he doesn't press Mr. Stark. Aunt May is always telling Peter to not butt into other people's business.

Peter's phone rings, breaking the quietness as it nearly echoes in the lab. Peter takes his phone from his back pocket to see that it's Aunt May calling.

"Really, kid? A flip-phone?" Mr. Stark incredulously asks. Peter tries to let the comment roll over him. He can't afford a smartphone. And why would he even need one? He takes pictures with his good camera, he doesn't play any games, and he only ever texts or calls Aunt May, Harry, Gwen, or work. It'd be unnecessary to have the latest tech. He'd rather save up for college.

Peter flips open his phone and puts it to his ear.

"Hey, Aunt May," he says. "Yea, I'm just about ready to leave. Why?" he talks to his Aunt. "Milk? Didn't I just get that? Really? That was a week ago? Yea, I'll get it on the way home. Anything else?" Peter listens to his Aunt's list. It must've been a lot since he flips over his homework and starts scribbling stuff down on it. "Yep. Can do. Love you too, Aunt May. I will. Bye," Peter hangs up his phone and looks up at Mr. Stark.

"I gotta go. Thanks for having me, Mr. Stark," Peter stands up and slings his backpack over his shoulder.

"Sure thing, feel better kiddo," Mr. Stark says to him as Peter enters the elevator. What a day.  
____________________________________________________________________________________

"Stark!" Natasha yells to Tony as he enters the kitchen.

"I do not have your compact taser," he says to her, trying to save himself from her fury.

"Ok, you liar. But I wanted to ask you, why was the kid's voice messed up?" she asks him, wanting to know if he saw what she did.

"Peter said he was feeling under the weather. A friend of his was sick this week too," Tony explains, half of his mind focused on coffee and the other on his tablet.

"Stark, listen to me. His voice did not sound like he was sick," she explains. Tony snaps his head up, abandoning the tablet and coffee to hear what she has to say about Peter. "He sounded like someone recovering from strangulation."

Tony's eyes go wide. "How could he have been strangled?"

"I don't know. But I saw the bruises on his neck too. And they weren't that of fingers. Someone used an object to strangle him."

"I mean, I knew he was getting bullied, but I didn't think - You don't think the kids at school are doing this to him, do you?" Tony asks, worried about his favorite teenager.

"I don't know, Stark. But you need to make sure he's safe. This is New York after all. Next time the kid's over, do something. Ask him about it. Or have JARVIS scan him for injuries. But the kid looks up to you. Be a role model and protect him. You hear me?" Natasha says, her tough-loving motherly side appearing through her orders.

"Alright. I'll do that," Tony scratches his chin in thought. "What if you and Cap taught him how to fight? Like, hand-to-hand. Then he could stand up to the attacks."

"I'll think about it, Stark. I'm not always here. But you and I both know that Steve will say yes in a heartbeat. He keeps saying how he sees a younger version of himself in that kid."


	5. Chapter 5

"Woohoo!" Peter yells as he swings over the rooftops. Man, is it nice to have his voice back. All day it had been awful. It had hurt to talk, and it hurt to hear his voice. But it had cleared up by the time he ate dinner with Aunt May after meeting the Avengers.

Yea, that's right. Peter met the Avengers. Well, all except for Thor, but Peter's not complaining. They were all so cool. AND they were excited to meet Peter. Not Spiderman, plain old nerdy Peter Parker. That's pretty amazing. Especially Captain America and Tony Stark. How cool is that?

Peter is quite happy with how his Thursday turned out. And he doesn't think that'll change, no matter what he comes up against tonight on patrol. And so far, there hasn't been much on the police scanner, which also makes Peter quite happy. He's been spending his night swinging around New York and sitting on rooftops enjoying the view. He doesn't think he'll ever get used to it: seeing the city from high up, watching the lights and the people.

Peter checks the police scanner one last time. It's 11 o'clock, and if nothing's happening tonight, he'd love to catch up on some sleep. But sure enough, not fifteen seconds after Peter checks, a call comes through notifying him that a couple of men are armed and attempting to rob a bank. Peter sighs. He can kiss his hopes of extra sleep goodbye.

Peter slings a web to the adjacent building and starts swinging to the crime. Maybe he can wrap it up quickly. That'd be nice. Not that he has much going on tomorrow except for school. But he's gone to school after a 72 hour day more times than healthy and survived to tell the tale. So, whatever happens can't be too bad, right?  
____________________________________________________________________

"Just hand over the cash. All of ya!" a gruff-voiced man shouts to the terrified bank patrons and staff.

"Wallets, watches, bags, phones, all of it!" another one shouts as he points his handgun at the bank employee. "And a couple of wads of paper from you hun."

"Not going to happen," the woman tells him. Pretty brave of her, considering she can feel the cool metal of the barrel on her forehead. Or perhaps pretty reckless.

"Oh yeah?" one of the goons asks her, "whatcha gonna do about it, huh?"

"I wouldn't mess with her man," Peter drops from the ceiling next to the tallest goon of the three. "She looks like she's got one strong right hook," Peter tells him before he proceeds to throw his own, holding back as to not kill the man. The dude drops to the floor, dazed, close to passing out, and now un-armed. Peter reaches down to the handgun, takes out the bullets before kicking it away. Better safe than sorry.

"Don't move, Spidey," another one of the goons tells him. This one has brown hair that looks like he spent over an hour styling. Yikes. Someone has way too much time on their hands. Peter's usually rushing out the door in the mornings, hair still cow-licked. And Gwen usually makes vain attempts to fix it once he gets to school. But it just can't be tamed.

"You're out-numbered, bug. Give it up. We're armed," he threatens while gesturing to his companions. Yep. Real threatening. Four guys who all look like they weren't anything more than models, two awkwardly holding their guns, one passed out on the floor, and the last holding a pocket knife.

"You're right. I'm outnumbered," Peter begins, putting his hands in the air. "You've got me," Peter says just as he shoots his web fluid at two thugs. He gets each one in the eyes, blinding and distracting them. The middle one Peter kicks in the stomach into the wall. "I should probably leave while I'm unscathed. I don't think I'd last too long against you guys," Peter says as he webs their wrists together, a sort-of makeshift handcuff he'd learned to make.

"I can only ask that you guys play nice," he says to them, shooting webbing as gags on the first two.

"We've got a message for you Spidey," the un-gagged thief smiles to Peter menacingly, stopping Peter from webbing up his mouth. "Doc Octavius and Doc Connors say hello. They hope your throat is better and can't wait to meet up with ya soon." The thief's smile grows bigger as Peter processes what he's heard. Great. Sounds like the docs are after him.

"Guess it's time I start eating more apples," Peter replies as he shoots webbing to gag the man. That's not what Peter was hoping to hear. He was hoping that they were just normal stupid thieves. Actually, that's what he assumed they were. But of course, things have got to be complicated these days. A man with metal arms and a lizard teaming up to terrorize the city as they beat up a spider. Not a pretty image.

After securing the felons, Peter walks over to the civilians, thankful to find no one hurt. Thank goodness. Sure, a few are still in their various states of terror, but they are physically fine. Lord knows the police would just blame him for their injuries.

Peter's spider-sense warns him that someone's approaching, in time for him to turn around and see the woman from before rushing up to him with outstretched arms. Before Peter knows it, he's being bear-hugged by a woman he's never met.

"Thank you so much, Spiderman. I wasn't sure how I was going to help everyone, and you made it that I didn't have to. Lord knows the police wouldn't have been here soon enough," she thanks him with watery eyes. Peter's surprised.

"Oh, uh, just, doing what needs to be done," Peter stutters. He's never gotten a positive reaction like this before. And Peter must say, it's a nice change of pace. He appreciates it. And before Peter knows it, the rest of the patrons and employees begin to give their thanks to Spiderman from a distance. Peter's shocked. He's never gotten this much positive reinforcement. Wow.

But, just to ruin Peter's good night, police sirens begin to ring from the street. Great. The police just love finding Spiderman at a crime scene.

"Sorry guys, gotta go," Peter salutes the crowd and jumps to the ceiling as his spider-sense tells him the police are at the door. Surveying his surroundings, Peter finds a window and quickly crawls to it.

"Stop right there, Spiderman!" a policeman shouts from behind him. Peter's so close to the window that he ignores the man's order and launches himself out and onto the pavement. Thank goodness the bank was only one level. Peter takes off running, slings a web to a nearby building, and swings away, hearing and sensing the bullets fired at him by the police. He dodges them and gets away unscathed. Despite the police showing up, his Thursday is still pretty awesome.  
____________________________________________________________________

Peter stumbles into his bedroom, exhausted. He patrolled for about three extra hours after stopping those robbers and escaping the cops. Yea, he was successful and it did feel good helping people, but Peter's simply so exhausted that he doesn't want to do anything but sleep. For about ten hours. Minimum.

Peter keeps mulling over what the thieves told him. Doc Octavius (man, does that guy need a supervillain name) and the Lizard are waiting for him. Peter thought that they'd be caught soon by the police, or that they'd just give up. Guess it was too wishful of thinking. But hey, a guy can dream.

Were they baiting him with those goons? Or was he played? Maybe they were studying him? Those idiots didn't seem able to analyze his fighting style. Oh no. Were the security cameras hacked by the docs? Peter didn't check for those. And it could've been the reason why his spider-sense was on a low alert the entire time in the bank. Peter just assumed that it was because of the thieves. And it may have been.

Ugh, this is too much to think about at 2:30 am. So Peter strips off his spandex Spiderman suit and stows it away in the bottom of his book bag. He throws on a clean pair of boxers and dives under the covers quietly, as to not wake up Aunt May. He'd hate to wake her up by being loud. For both of their sakes.

Tomorrow's Friday. Can't be all that bad. He'll be in Tony Stark's lab again Tuesday. That's only four days to get through. He can do that, right? Four days. Four days until he sees all of the Avengers again.


	6. Chapter 6

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEEP BEEEEP BEE-

Peter hits snooze on his alarm clock. Great, another day at school. Well, at least it's a Friday. It can't be all that bad, even with the little amount of sleep Peter got. He doesn't have to go to the Daily Bugle, and he doesn't have to crack down on his homework the second he gets home. He can take his time and then go on patrol. Better yet, he can stay out pretty much as late as he needs since he won't have to get up for school on Saturday.

With those good thoughts in his head, Peter reluctantly emerges from his warm bed to get ready for school.

"Peter, are you up?" Aunt May calls through Peter's door.

"Yea, Aunt May," Peter groggily responds as he slips on a pair of jeans.

"Don't take too long, Peter. You don't want to have to rush out the door."

"Mmm-hmmm," Peter responds as he tugs on a t-shirt. He hears Aunt May's footsteps quiet as they travel down the hall and into the kitchen. Peter rushes into the bathroom where he brushes his teeth, washes his face, and fixes his hair with the aid of his increased speed. Hey, a superhero's gotta do what a superhero's gotta do. Breaking his new record of getting ready, Peter grabs his backpack (that has his Spidey suit hidden in it) and a pair of sneakers before briskly walking into the kitchen.

"Peter, I'll be at my yoga class today, so I won't be here when you get home. I'm covering a few classes for Patty after work. She's out sick," Aunt May tells Peter from where she's sitting, eating her bowl of cereal.

"Sure thing," Peter half-mindedly responds as he searches for a bowl and spoon. After finding the sneaky dish and utensil, Peter sits down and pours himself a large helping of the cereal Aunt May got out. Turns out that with all of his superhero abilities, Peter's metabolism nearly skyrocketed, causing him to eat a lot more. Thankfully, Aunt May just passes it off as Peter's a growing teenage boy.

"Anything interesting for today?" she asks him in-between bites of cereal and sips of coffee.

"Uh. I don't think so. I think I have a Spanish quiz," Peter tells her, shoveling cereal into his mouth.

"Well, buena suerte," Aunt May jokes with Peter.

"Gracias," Peter laughs back as he slips on his shoes, tying double knots. He always ties double knots. It's like his shoelaces rebel against him otherwise. The anarchy he has to deal with on a daily basis.

"Alright, get out of here," she smiles at him, ushering him out the door so that he won't be late.

"Love you, Aunt May!" Peter yells as he runs to the stairs, praying that he'll be on time to school today. Aunt May just shakes her head in amusement as the door closes. Maybe one day, he won't have to run down those stairs. But then again, he probably wouldn't be her Peter Parker if he didn't.  
____________________________________________________________

"Hey," Peter greets Gwen, only slightly out of breath.

"Hey," she smiles up at him from her seat. "I heard about Spiderman last night," she says.

"Oh, yea? Wonder what he was up to. Probably something extremely heroic and admirable." Gwen teasingly smacks his arm with her notebook.

"He better have. And not gotten hurt in the process I hope," she eyes him up, trying to decipher if he indeed made it away unscathed.

"Hey guys," Harry greets them as he sits down next to Peter. "Pete, did you hear about Spiderman last night?"

"Uh- no, Gwen was just uh- just telling me. Why? What did you hear?" Peter tries valiantly to not give anything away or seem suspicious.

"Dude, he was at a bank on 125th. There were three goons trying to rob the place and Spidey came in and webbed 'em all up. And get this: the people weren't scared of him! They actually thought he was a hero. They kept telling the press that he was helping, and the media didn't know how to handle it," Harry excitedly explains to his best friends. "They're always beating on Spiderman, but I think it's time that they face the truth and present him as the good samaritan he is."

"I agree, Harry," Gwen tells the group, nodding along. "Spiderman sure could use a break," she shoots Peter a glance that Harry is oblivious to. "I know!" she exclaims, a pressing thought brought forth in her mind. "How about in celebration for our math test yesterday, and for Spidey, we hang out after school today?"

Peter and Harry look at each other, trying to discern the other's thoughts on the matter.

"Yea, sounds good, Gwen," Peter replies, happy to have something fun to look forward to.

"I'm in too. Want to hang at my place?" Harry offers to the two.

"Are you kidding? The Osborn house? How could we ever pass that up?" Peter jests with a huge grin on his face.

"Awesome," Harry smiles, happy that his friends are down with the plan.

"Class. Class. The bell rang. I'm not going to fight with you. Settle down. I won't speak over you," their teacher walks into the classroom, ready to start the day's lesson. Peter sits down in his seat and takes out his pen and binder.

This is going to be awesome. Hanging out at the Osborn house? That's cool since the place is so huge because of "Stormin' Norman". But hanging out with his best friends after school? Even better.  
____________________________________________________________

"No, I honestly don't want to learn about orbital hybridization. Not because it's not interesting, just because I already know it," Peter explains to Gwen as they stand in the lunch line.

"I understand. You should see me in math class. I'm this close to pulling my hair out when they don't understand vertex form of all things," Gwen appropriately gestures with her fingers the minuscule distance. "But Midtown doesn't provide AP yet. Only honors for the subject, so we're kind of stuck until next year."

"Yea, but you are taking AP next year, right?"

"Of course. For pretty much everyth-"

"Parker!" Flash cuts Gwen off by rushing in front of the lunch line to come to threaten Peter. Just great. This is just what Peter needs. "You wanna know what your little act got me the other day? Detention. For a week. This is all your fault, Parker," Flash seethes as he steps into Peter's personal space, pushing his finger so close that Peter would've had to be cross-eyed to see it. Peter knows that this is going to go downhill even without his spidey sense.

"Actually, Flash, I think you did that all by yourself," Peter says, trying to stand up for himself but not poke the bear with a stick. Peter can hear the students around him quiet down, waiting to see what Flash will do to Peter.

"That's it, Parker. You're going down," Flash threatens right as Peter's spidey sense tells him to duck. Not thinking of the consequences, Peter does dodge Flash's punch, bewildering the students and enraging Flash.

Peter sucks in a breath. He hadn't meant to do that. He really hadn't. It just sort of happened out of habit. Now he's going to have to take a beating if he wants to remain inconspicuous. Flash's face turns red with anger as he strikes at Peter again, nailing him in the nose. Maybe if Peter was normal, it would've broken under the force the football player exerted, but Peter's Spiderman. His nose did not break.

Seeing this as a failure, Flash aims another punch at Peter's nose. A much stronger punch. Peter can feel this one ache, but there is still no blood. This is not helping Peter, since Flash all out pummels him, forcing him to the ground. Peter's empty lunch tray is knocked out of his hands, and the students around him back away in shock. But Peter can hear Gwen's footsteps running, presumedly to find a teacher strong enough to tear Flash away.

Eventually, Peter feels his nose break, the blood pouring out his nose and onto his lips, threatening to stain his shirt scarlet. Seeing his success, Flash continues hitting Peter's face until he can feel his eye and lip beginning to swell.

Peter's surprised once Flash stops hitting his face, leaving Peter only slightly dazed. After all, he has gotten much, much worse from his nightly patrols. Peter slowly tries to push himself up off the floor only to get a couple of punches to the stomach. Peter gasps, losing his breath for the moment at the force Flash hit him with. The blows to his chest were worse, but still not nearly the worst injury he's ever gotten.

"THOMPSON!" Peter hears a teacher yell from across the cafeteria. Good. Maybe Flash will stop now. But Peter's spidey sense says otherwise. Because of his slightly dazed state, Peter is unable to block Flash's kick below the belt. Seeing stars, Peter groans in pain. It may not have been as painful as it used to be, but appearances must be kept.

Peter's vision quickly returns, in time for him to see Mr. Snyder grabbing Flash by the shoulders and pushing him into the wall.

"This isn't over, Parker!" Flash shouts to the teen slowly kneeling from his sprawled position on the floor. Peter looks up at Flash, seeing the anger in his eyes as Mr. Snyder forces him to the principal's office. Peter just shakes his head, trying to rid himself of the few aches and pains Flash caused him.

Peter senses before he feels the pair of hands on his shoulders.

"Come on, Mr. Parker. Let's get to Mr. Phillips' office," Mrs. Ross tells him, hoisting him onto his feet. Peter obediently nods his head, knowing from experience that you don't mess with Mrs. Ross and what she wants you to do.  
____________________________________________________________

"So what did he say, Pete?" Harry asks his best friend as they walk to Harry's house.

"Well, Flash is just going to get more detention. And since I was involved in the fight, I have detention too."

"WHAT!" both Gwen and Harry erupt in shock and anger.

"He cannot be serious. You're not pulling our legs, are you Peter Parker?" Gwen asks deadly serious. Peter just gloomily shakes his head. And he thought today was going to be his day.

"I'm sorry, Pete. That's a rough break. When do you have detention?"

"Monday and Tuesday. For an hour after school. But of course, Flash only has to go on Monday since he can't possibly miss two more days of football practice in addition to his prior week of detention."

"Well, let's not think about it now. You're free today, tomorrow, and Sunday, right?" Gwen offers. The group turns and walks up Harry's driveway in silence.

"Wait, didn't you have plans on Tuesday?" Harry suddenly asks as they reach the front door. "OH! You meet with Tony Stark and do science with him because he gave you a concussion that you tried really hard to not tell anyone about." Peter blushes.

"Hey, it wasn't that bad." Gwen and Harry look at him with their signature cut the crap look. "But yea, you're right. I'm going to have to miss Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner on Tuesday." Harry swings open the front door to reveal the mansion-like house that belongs to the Osborns.

"Well, you should probably let him know, Peter," Gwen tells Peter. "But let's eat first. Because I'm starving." Gwen walks towards Harry's kitchen, with the boys hot on her heels, agreeing with her statement. Peter most of all with his advanced metabolism.

"Harry! What have I talked about on bringing guests?" Mr. Osborn reprimands Harry in front of his friends who are all eating popcorn. Peter, Gwen, and Harry stop, knowing that Mr. Osborn will not be happy.

"It's just Peter and Gwen, Dad," Harry hopes to explain. Norman looks at the other teens, his anger dissipating as he sees Peter.

"Peter! How nice to see you again," Mr. Osborn lights up as he claps Peter on the back. "Glad to have you over." Peter looks at Harry, confused as to what changed the man's mood. "Without you, Harry here would have failed his class. Uh, history or..."

"Dad," Harry tries to stop his Dad. "It was one test."

"Well, one test becomes two, which becomes five, which becomes ten, and next thing you know, you won't be in AP, and how could you take over the company in core classes that you're failing?" Norman instantly gains back his anger. Peter and Gwen send each other a sideways glance of discomfort. This is not what Peter had in mind when coming over to the Osborn household.

"Uh, Mr. Osborn?" Peter interrupts the family feud. "Uh, Harry has helped me in math and chemistry more times than I've helped him. I would've failed if it wasn't for his help." Harry sends Peter a grateful look. Osborn surveys each teen as if looking for lies he can visibly see before grunting and turning on his heel to return to where he came from.

"Sorry about that guys," Harry begins to apologize only for his best friends to stop him.

"Don't be Harry," Gwen consoles him. "You weren't the one at fault here."

"I guess," Harry begins. "Look, don't tell anyone, but Dad is sick," Harry whispers to them. "He won't tell me what it's from but I know that the condition is terminal. It's only a matter of time. He just wants to make sure I'm set on the right track before he's gone." Peter sees Harry look down at the bowl of popcorn, trying to avoid his friends' pity. Well, not that he'd see any in Peter's eyes, one is still pretty swollen from his beat down the hour before. But that's beside the point.

"And now Dad thinks he's got to find a cure to what's incurable..." Harry trails off. "But let's not think about that now," he abruptly changes the subject. "Let's eat and then head out for ice-cream or something."

"Sounds good," Peter agrees with his friend immediately, in efforts to help him feel better. "We can head to the one by my apartment since I don't want to be late for my aunt." Aunt May sure has a wrath that could put Stormin' Norman's to shame.  
____________________________________________________________

"Hey, Aunt May! I'm home!" Peter shouts as he unlocks the door to the apartment. Dropping his bag at the kitchen table, Peter looks for something to eat. Yea, popcorn and ice-cream aren't exactly filling for Spiderman's large appetite. But it was successful in fixing Harry's mood.

But Peter doesn't hear a response.

"Aunt May?" he calls again through the house. His spidey sense is absolutely silent, so there can't be any danger, right?

Peter wants to smack himself on the head. Of course, she's not responding. Aunt May is at her yoga class. That's right.

"Oh well. Guess it's a perfect time to call Mr. Stark," Peter mutters to himself, not wanting to forget, and also not wanting to begin homework. So Peter flips open his phone (he knows, he knows) and calls Stark Industries.

"Stark Industries. Suanne speaking. How may I help you?"

"Hi, Suanne. It's Peter. Peter Parker -"

"Oh, Peter! How are you! I must say, I didn't expect to hear from you so soon."

"I - uh, wasn't planning on it, actually. Uh, I'm just calling to tell Mr. Stark that I'm gonna miss Tuesday." Peter waits as Suanne leaves a pregnant pause over the phone.

"You want me to tell him you're on the phone?" Peter hesitates at that and bites his lower lip. Does he really want to explain to Mr. Stark why he can't come?

"Peter, I'm sure he'd like to hear it from you. He's only in his lab right now. You won't be bothering him," Suanne continues to elaborate in hopes to persuade him.

"A-alright," Peter gives in with a stutter. Suanne's just such a nice lady that he couldn't possibly disappoint her on purpose.

"Perfect!" Peter can practically hear her smile. As the call's being transferred and Peter's on hold, Peter tries to figure out what he'll tell Mr. Stark. Say he really did get beat up? That he now has detention? He doesn't want to make a bad impression. He's still got to seem cool to Mr. Stark.

With all of his anxious thoughts swirling around, Peter begins to regret doing the right thing and calling. Maybe he can just hang up now before -

"Hey, kid. What's up?" Mr. Stark asks Peter. Great. No turning back now.

"H-hey, Mr. Stark. I - uh, I just wanted - wanted to let you know that I - uh," Peter wasn't expecting this to be so difficult. "I wanted to tell you that I won't make it on Tuesday." Peter bites his lip at the silence he's met with.

"Alright. Care to tell why you already know about missing Tuesday's Science Bros time?"

"Uh - not really?" Peter hears Mr. Stark sigh.

"Do you want to come on Monday?"

"I can't make it Monday either." Yet another silence.

"You can't not tell me now, Peter."

"I - uh, I have detention on Monday and Tuesday."

"For what exactly?"

"I kind of got into a fight at school. Well, it was more like I was standing there with an unknown bullseye painted on my back. But I was involved in some form, so I got detention."

"Do you want to come over after detention on Tuesday? You can stay for dinner and do homework. Heck, you can even sleep over if you're allowed to. It's closer to you high school anyway. How's that sound?" Mr. Stark offers. Peter's jaw drops open. It sounds pretty freakin' amazing.

"That sounds awesome," Peter says incredulously. "But I have to check with my aunt."

"Sure thing kid. Here, just call me when you know and call me direct at this number," Tony lists off his number to Peter who writes it hastily on the back of his hand in sharpie. He got Tony freakin' Stark's personal phone number? No. Freakin'. Way.

"Uh, yea. Yea. Thanks, Mr. Stark. Do you uh need my number?"

"Kid, I already have it. Tech genius and all. What, got some cobwebs in your brain?" Mr. Stark laughs. Cobwebs? He really has no idea. "But kid, you gotta tell me when things like this happen, alright? I know you don't want to worry your aunt, but you gotta tell someone. Tell me, or Capsicle, or Bruce. We can help and want to help, alright? And if you need anything else, let me know. Anything, alright?" Peter nods in response before realizing that he's on the phone.

"Sure thing, Mr. Stark," Peter tells him. He's a bit shocked. He hasn't really had a confidant since Uncle Ben died. He hasn't wanted to burden Aunt May any more than she is. And his friends are just not the same. "Thank you," Peter tells the man, trying to express his gratitude, but not quite ready to reveal the reason.

"Always, kid. I'll see you on Tuesday, or sooner if you call." Peter shuts his phone contently. That went way better than he was expecting.


	7. Chapter 7

"Hey Aunt May, I have a question for you," Peter tells his aunt as she eats her own bowl of soup. "Well, just recently, Mr. Stark has offered for me to stay for dinner. On Tuesday." Aunt May arches her eyebrows at him.

"Really? Why the sudden change?" Aunt May asks. Uh-oh. Should he tell her he has detention? Or can he get away with not telling her? It's not like his face is still messed up. It healed already. So he can't really be ratted out for it...

"I have something after school on Monday and Tuesday. And when I called to tell him I can't make it, he offered for me to still come after and do homework and eat dinner, and even sleep over if need be." Peter bites his lip in worry. Will she say no? Aunt May wouldn't do that, would she?

"Alright. But you better call Mr. Stark and offer for him to come to eat dinner here tomorrow night. I don't want you staying over there until I've met the man myself," she tells him, leaving no room for argument. Peter nods his head, knowing that her conditions could have been much worse. "And Peter, you should call him back right away. From what I hear, Mr. Stark is a busy man." Once again, Peter nods. But so is Spiderman.

"Thanks, Aunt May. So I should offer..."

"Tomorrow at seven for my famous lasagna," she chuckles. "And tell him to bring that man Steve... and Bruce. Or whoever were the two who helped you when he smacked you in the head. I want to thank them too." Yea, Peter knew he shouldn't have told her what happened.

"Got it," Peter tells her, storing the information for once he has the time to call. After all, he does have to go on patrol tonight.  
_______________________________________________________________________________

Peter's got to say, swinging over his city at night, and feeling the air rushing past him, is one of his favorite things. It's always enough to blow away his own troubles as Peter Parker. It really helps him put things into perspective. Like, Flash Thompson really isn't an issue compared to the two evil doctors Spidey knows.

Peter's spidey sense compels him to duck as he swings across from building to building. Huh. A trash can was thrown at him. Well, that's not very nice.

"Ssspider-man," a very reptilian voice calls his alter-ego name. Peter lands on the side of a building and looks in that direction, only to find the Lizard himself. Of course, it's the Lizard. Maybe Peter gained a new power where he can summon people (or really green monsters in this case) by the sheer power of his mind. Probably not.

"Doc Connors! Didn't even see you there. You're looking a little green..." Peter taunts the man-lizard to allow the people around them to escape. Although, Peter almost regrets it when he hears the growl coming from the scientist.

"Spiderman. Isn't it lovely to see you again," another oily voice says from his right. Peter looks over at him to see Doctor Octavius.

"Oh you too, Doc Octavius. Although, I'd rather see you guys behind some bars," Peter taunts that man too. Better him getting hurt than the few innocent people trying to flee.

"Ooo. Little spider's threatening us, Curt. Better put him back in his place," Doctor Octavius tells his partner in crime.

"Aww, come on! We only just met. I didn't even get to give you your super-villain nickname." Peter barely has time to move as Doctor Octavius's metal arm swings across to whack Peter but merely breaking the glass windows.

"Guess you'll need one soon then. I don't want to hang out here if you're cranky. But I'm warning you, it may not be as good as 'The Lizard'," Peter taunts as he climbs up the building so that the metal arms would need more time to reach him. "That has to be one of my bests."

"Let's see... 'Evil Octopus'," Peter tries first, trying to formulate his plan and the names to keep the two distracted. "Nope. I'm not feeling it. Doc Otto-pus. O-c-tto - pus. Nope, that's even worse," Peter yells to them as two more metal arms come flying at him. Peter jumps from his perch straight towards Octavius, ready to give him a good punch.

But Peter gets knocked aside by the Lizard. Darn, he didn't think the reptile had such good reaction time. Peter manages to land on another building on his hands and feet. He sends webbing their way, attempting to bind, blind, or distract the two. The webbing takes hold on the Lizard's scales, successfully binding his arms to his sides. But the webbing is broken in seconds by Octavius.

"Hmm... OH! I got it! Ready?" Peter clears his throat. "Doc Oc! It's perfect! Get it? Doc Oc-tavius? That's not bad for a mid-fight naming." Peter hears both villains growl this time.

"THAT'S IT!" Doc Oc erupts in anger, unleashing multiple arms at Peter. But thanks to his spidey sense, Peter jumps up in time and lands on the arms. Using them as traction, Peter climbs them to Doc Oc where he sends more webbing at the metal arm sockets and at Doc Oc's eyes. He jumps off the arms in the same direction so that he lands behind the crazy man. Peter kicks him into the wall of broken windows before webbing the man to said wall. Peter turns around to find the Lizard breaking free of his webbing.

"Oh no you don't," Peter says as he sends more webbing at the Lizard. But it's too late. The Lizard is angry and has his reptilian eyes set on Peter. He roars. Yep, roars. Like a dinosaur. That may be the closest to one New York will ever get. Peter sets himself in a defensive stance as Doc Connors charges toward him. Thanks to his spidey sense, Peter dodges the first five punches, scratches, and bites. It's not until the sixth that he gets punched in the back by something rather metallic.

Peter's sent flying just a few feet onto the pavement. He looks up to find two very angry scientists, both wanting to hurt him. Great.

"You guys ever try yoga? Or anger management classes? They have ones for couples like yourselves." And before Peter knows it, the two men (well, one is more lizard) pounce on him. The Lizard reaches for Peter, trying to sink his claws into Peter's torso. Peter attempts to evade him but feels his side get a bit of the blow. Great, now he'll have to patch up his suit. And it's not cheap.

"Come on dude, I just fixed this up. You guys have no respect for a guy's fashion do you?" Peter yells to them as he tries to scramble up the wall. But just his luck, his legs are caught by Doc Oc's metal arms.

"Dude, it's so not cool to grab a guy's ankles while he's trying to climb up a building," Peter chastises, hoping to hide the fear in his voice.

"Then you better stop climbing Spidey," Doc Oc wickedly grins at Peter. "Curt," he calls to his partner, "I think the itsy bitsy spider here needs to be... cut down to size."

Peter's eyes widen under the mask. Thank goodness he does have a mask. The Lizard snarls before a sinister smile develops.

"It would be my pleasure." The Lizard bears his claws out, preparing for the strike. Peter knows the extent of damage the reptile's claws can cause because he was on the receiving end a few months ago.

Peter tries to struggle out of Doc Oc's metal grip, but his wrists are held tight and his ankles are held tighter. He tries to fight off the two doctors as well as the fear slowly taking hold in him. Showing weakness right now won't help him. His spidey sense rings off the hook, warning him how lethal the Lizard will be, and Peter can't get out.

"You know, I think I like being in one piece here. You don't want spider bits on the street," Peter tries talking to them instead. Maybe he can distract them enough to wiggle his wrist to utilize his web shooter.

"You don't get a choice, Spider-boy," Doc Oc replies. Peter mocks hurt at the comment.

"It's Spiderman to you. Honestly. I give you a one of a kind evil villain name, and this is how you repay me. Kids these days are just so ungrateful."

And Peter feels the Lizard's claws catch his skin in agony. This is pretty close to the worse pain Peter's felt. The talons feel like razors, and Peter fights to pay attention once they left contact with his skin. It wasn't just his skin, it went farther in than Peter would've liked. Maybe a half inch if he's lucky.

"Octopus! Leave the man of spiders alone!" a loud, booming voice exclaims across from Peter. Doc Oc drops Peter in shock, letting Peter use his web shooters where he webs Doc Oc up. He sticks his metal arms together and wraps the man up himself. When Peter's done (in about 4 seconds) he punches Doc Oc without holding back. The villain goes flying into the building across the street where he remains unmoving.

"Finally. I thought he'd never go down." Peter turns around to deal with the Lizard to find him fighting Peter's savior. The man is huge. Well, he's normal in height. But the dude is jacked. Kind of like Cap. And he has long blonde hair and a red cape. A surfer superhero if Peter's ever seen one.

Peter runs up to Doc Connors and webs the Lizard's face once again.

"This isn't you, Doc. I can help. Just like last time. Remember the antidote?"

"It won't work Spiderman. Otto made a new cure for me. I am the Lizard. Doctor Connors is dead and he won't be coming back," the Lizard snarls at him.

"I don't believe that for a second, Doc. Dr. Connors is still somewhere in you. I know he is," Peter tries to reason with the man. He's telling the truth that he doesn't believe the Lizard is permanent. No way would Doc Connors take that stuff again, no matter how desperate. The man was so devastated after killing so many other people. Peter had visited his mentor a couple times since he was in prison. Of course, Dr. Connors never knew that Spiderman and Peter were one in the same. And Peter sure hopes it will stay that way.

"CURT CONNORS IS DEAD!" the Lizard roars at him, only for the sound of police sirens to begin.

"Oh, shit..." Peter mutters under his breath. The cops still don't like him, not even after the nice people at the robbery spoke good of him like Harry told him this morning.

"Another time, Spider," the Lizard tells Peter as he runs away, leaving Doc Oc in the building, and Peter with the other hero of the day.

"Hey, thanks for that, by the way," Peter says to his rescuer.

"It is an honor, man of spiders. I have seen your help to the city of New York," the man says to him. Peter can hear the sirens get louder and know he should leave.

"What's your name by the way?" Peter asks him.

"I am Thor, son of Odin," Thor tells him. Peter's eyes widen. Thor? No way. No freakin' way.

"Well, uh, thanks, Thor. See ya' around," Peter tells him with a wave before slinging a web as he sees the police car pull up. Peter's swinging across New York before the cop could exit the car.

That was way too close. Peter needs to stop holding back on his punches if he wants to defeat these guys. Especially if he wants to prevent being minced on the street.

Peter lands on a dimly lit roof a few blocks away due to the pain. Yep, that'll take a while to heal. Maybe a little into tomorrow. But the suit is another story. He'll have to sew it back together. Again. It's times like these where Peter wishes his suit had super healing abilities as he has.

Oh crap! He still has to call Mr. Stark! Damn it! What time is it? Peter checks his phone for the time and sighs in relief. It's only 11:15. That's not entirely unreasonable. He should call him now while he won't disturb Aunt May. Peter finds Mr. Stark's number and calls the man.

"Hey, Pete. What's up?" Mr. Stark asks. Peter really wasn't expecting the man to pick up, much less barely let the phone ring.

"Uh, hey Mr. Stark. Uh, I asked my Aunt about coming over on Monday and she wants to have you guys over for dinner first." Peter bites his lip. It is kind of weird to have a billionaire for dinner at your two bedroom apartment.

"Sure. When does she want us over?"

"Uh, tomorrow at seven for her famous lasagna. And she asked that you bring Cap and Dr. Banner." Peter sighs in relief, happy that it went over so well.

"Sounds perfect kid. We'll be there. Need us to bring anything?"

"No. I don't think so. Just yourselves. Oh! Don't you need my address?"

"Kid. Super-computer-genius. Remember?" Mr. Stark laughs.

"Oh right." Mr. Stark laughs again at Peter's fantastic memory.

"Stay safe kid." And Mr. Stark hangs up. Peter looks at his phone in a sort of shock. He really was not expecting it to go that well. Mr. Stark is a nice guy and all, but asking him over for Saturday dinner is kind of weird.

Trying not to think about it too much (or about the evil doctors), Peter gingerly swings across the city with his torso burning. He really can't go a day without getting hurt anymore, can he?  
_____________________________________________________________________________

Peter enters his bedroom window as quietly as he can and crawls across his ceiling as to not make the floor squeak. He sits on his bed where he gingerly looks at the scratch the Lizard gave him. Three half inch deep gashes starting at his breastbone and going all the way down to his left hip. Ouch. But thankfully, it looks as if his spidey powers are already trying to heal the cut. It's not bleeding too much. Well, it is more than when Flash beat on him today, but it's not like Peter's bleeding buckets.

Peter tiptoes to his desk drawer where he has his medical supplies that any sensible doctor might cringe at. It's not much. Gauze, athletic wrap, body tape, and a bottle of the cut cleaner stuff. But it'll do.

It's about twenty minutes later when Peter is successfully wrapped up and out of his spandex. Twenty minutes of wondering why Doc Oc and Doc Connors were there. Peter was just swinging around the city to some of his regularly patrolled areas. He wasn't even at a crime scene. And the two of them came out of nowhere for no reason.

Unless they were after Peter.

But why would they be after him? He hasn't done anything except stop them. But if they were smart they wouldn't have gone after him again. Does he have something they want? Or are they just insane?

Peter tries to shrug off his thoughts as he slips under his covers from a long day only to have a fitful sleep filled with metal octopi and salamanders suffocating him as Peter drowns in a pit of black, living goo.


	8. Chapter 8

Peter woke up late. Well, not late per say, but late for him for sure. Peter's usually up and at 'em at eight thirty, maybe nine. But he woke up at ten this morning. Ten A.M. And Peter's not happy about it. He lost almost an hour and a half to sleep when he has homework to complete before heading out on patrol tonight. And he's hosting three avengers tonight for dinner.

Oh no. Peter forgot about that. Oh crap, he has to get the house ready for them. Peter groans at the thought and slowly eases himself up from the bed to grab real clothes. Which is his first bad decision of the day. It hurt to get up despite how slowly he moved. The movement pulled at his taped torso with a stab of pain (not as painful as last night, but still uncomfortable). Peter huffs. This is not going to be his day, is it? But then again, when is it really? He'll just have to take the day one step at a time.  
_____________________________________________________________________

"Peter, grab the good plates in the cabinet. Yea, those ones," Aunt May tells Peter. "And set them out on the table. You, me, and the three gentlemen," she nods with her head, hands full.

"Sure thing Aunt May," Peter says as he grabs said plates. He's desperate for this to go well with Mr. Stark, Dr. Banner, and Cap. They have been nothing but great to him, and they've sort of grown on him. It was kind of nice to have them around. Ever since Uncle Ben died, well, he's kind of missed having a father figure. Not that they could ever replace Uncle Ben, just like Uncle Ben never tried to replace Peter's real father.

Apparently, Aunt May wants to make a nice impression too since she had Peter start prepping for a seven o'clock dinner at 4:30. He guesses having a billionaire, a famous super soldier, and one of the most important scientists of the century over for dinner really is nerve-wracking. But then again, he is a crime-fighting vigilante that swings across New York on a synthetic spider web he modified from Oscorp while wearing spandex. Yea, guess you can't get much crazier or nerve-wracking than that.

"Peter, can you set out the utensils too? Oh, and wipe those glasses out. No. No, I better do those..." Aunt May trails off, assumedly remembering the numerous broken dishes at the hands of a non-super-powered Peter Parker. Peter doesn't comment and grabs the forks and knives as she asked. Better to let her think he'd break them by dropping them from clumsiness rather than from a super strength that he's still learning to control.

Would they want to talk about Spiderman since he was on the news (Peter checked in between homework sessions this morning)? But why would they? Peter's not even associated with Spiderman in their minds. Unless they want to talk about Thor since Peter's never met him, but clearly Spiderman has. Who is he kidding, of course, they won't talk about Spiderman. They're going to talk about Peter Parker and the things he's interested in. ...Which happens to include taking pictures of said vigilante for his job.

"Peter?" he hears Aunt May call.

"Yea?" Peter turns around to look at his aunt, who's frozen holding a sponge in a glass.

"Are you alright dear? I was calling your name."

"Oh. Uh- no. Yea. I mean, I'm good. I'm good. Great, even. Just out in space. That's all," Peter stutters. Honestly, how does he even keep a secret identity? Peter watches as Aunt May turns off the water and sets down her sponge before walking over to him with a clean glass.

"Peter," she starts. "It'll be fine. You've met these men before. It's only me who has yet to meet them. Relax. It'll be fine. Ok?" she asks, hoping to calm him down. Peter nods. Maybe Aunt May is right. Maybe this will go just fine.

Aunt May smiles at him, clapping a comforting hand on his shoulder. After putting the cup on a table setting, she turns back around, determined to get those fingerprints off that last glass even if it's the last thing she does.  
________________________________________________________________________

"Hello, Mr. Stark... Mr. Rogers... Dr. Banner," Aunt May greets each one in turn as she opens the door to their apartment.

"Thank you for having us over, ma'am," Cap tells her.

"Oh, there will be none of that. I only want to hear May, Aunt May, or your majesty," Aunt May jokes as she leads them in, successfully making all of them laugh. She walks them in as Peter closes the door behind them.

"You know, May," Tony starts off the conversation, "it was as if you read my mind when you chose lasagna for dinner. It's one of my favorite dishes." Tony smiles kindly at her, not like he does on TV to those reporters and actresses that Peter's seen. It kind of stuns Peter.

"Glad to know two of us will be pleased with the selection," Aunt May says, eyeing Peter playfully.

"Hey, I never said I didn't like it," Peter defends himself, palms out and arms outstretched. The whole group chuckles, happy that the tension of meeting someone new has dissipated. "I just said that I preferred your lemon chicken, alright." Peter smiles as he walks into the kitchen to grab the said meal.

Peter lifts the dish, bringing it to the table in all its glory.

"Here, I'll take that from you, Pete," Mr. Stark offers to him.

"Thanks, Mr. Stark, but I've got it," Peter tells him. It's his home, after all, he should be the one doing any of the work. Peter places it at the center of the table with caution. Everything seems light to him with his super strength. Even simple things like these he has to be careful not to break by too strong of a grip or by applying too much force in lifting it up or placing it back down.

"Alright. Bon appetite!" Aunt May says to them once Peter sits down in his chair between her and Cap. Across the circular table is Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner, looking eagerly at Aunt May's lasagna that really does deserve its title as world-famous.

Peter reaches out and grabs the green beans, shoveling a small amount (at least for him anyway) on to his plate.

"So Peter, you're a sophomore in high school, right?" Mr. Stark begins the conversation as everyone passes the food around the table.

"Uh, yea," Peter responds, slightly concerned as to why Mr. Stark would bring that up. The man already knows that.

"Thinking about colleges yet?" Peter looks at him funny.

"I just started sophomore year. It's only November."

"Mr. Stark is right, Peter," Aunt May chimes in her opinion. "You really should start looking for scholarships at least." Peter only nods. If he doesn't find scholarships, he won't be able to go to college. There's no way they could afford his tuition, even with financial aid. Too bad there isn't one for fighting crime every night as a volunteer (trust him, he looked).

"Have any idea what you want to do?" Mr. Stark asks again, noticing Peter slowly shut down against them and focusing on his food and thoughts.

"Um, I don't know. I like science and I like taking photos. But maybe I'll be a chemist. Or electrical engineer."

"Those are on two different ends of the spectrum," Dr. Banner tells him with eyebrows raised. Peter chuckles because it's quite true.

"Guess I'll have to find something in the middle then," Peter smiles before shoveling in another forkful of lasagna. "Or I could be a photographer," Peter laughs. He'd never simply be a photographer. He'd be bored not having something more cognitively challenging.  
____________________________________________________________________

"Hungry, Pete?" Mr. Stark teases with a kind smile as he sees Peter take his fourth helping of lasagna. Peter freezes for a split second. Oh shit! Peter forgot that they aren't accustomed to the large amounts of food he eats. Actually, they've never seen him eat. Peter's metabolism is so fast that he ends up eating several helpings. Especially when recovering from a fight like last night's.

"What can I say? Growing teenager," Peter says without any panic in his voice or expression. He takes a few bites of his lasagna since it would be weird not to at this point, but forces himself to stop there, despite the small amount of hunger left lingering.

"You almost ate as much as me, son. And I eat quite a lot because of the serum," Steve lightly laughs to Peter. Peter chuckles back, seeing the bit of reserve and confusion on Cap's face. Looking around the table, he only notices mirth on the others' faces. Satisfied with his excuse, Peter gently tries to move the conversation along, trying to stop Cap from thinking about the new information for too long.

"Well if you're still hungry, I better get the dessert then," Peter chuckles to Cap, standing up from the table. Ok, ow. That stung a bit. By getting up so quickly, Peter must've pulled on the almost fully healed skin.

"You alright, son?" Cap asks, a hand out towards Peter as if to steady him.

"Yea, just achy, I guess," Peter pulls himself from his momentary lapse and enters the kitchen as quickly as he dares. Damn it, he has to be more careful around these guys. They're not easily fooled by any "just a growing teenage boy, trust me" excuse because, believe it or not, they were all once growing teenage boys. Peter takes a deep breath. It's fine. It'll all be fine. Just an hour or two left of this dinner. He can do this.

Peter turns to the fridge where Aunt May has the platter of cream puffs (his favorites) and chocolate covered strawberries (no thanks). He carefully takes it out and closes the door, restraining himself from snagging a few.

"Ta-da," Peter says as he places the plate on the table. Peter grabs a cream puff and pops it in his mouth before sitting down, earning himself a gentle slap on the arm from Aunt May which only succeeded in making him smile. Swallowing, Peter proclaims, "If you liked the lasagna, you're going to feel in heaven with the cream puffs."

"And what about my strawberries?" Aunt May playfully teases him, knowing his aversion to the fruit.

"Never mix healthy with chocolate. It's just not meant to be." The entire table laughs, giving Peter the opportunity to steal another. Why did he think this was going to go wrong? Well, yes, he does have his horrible Peter-Parker luck, but everything seems to be going just right. And for that, he's grateful.  
______________________________________________________

"Well I think that went rather well, don't you?" Aunt May says while drying the dishes.

"I didn't think it'd be so smooth," Peter responds, washing the dreaded lasagna pan. Dried on sauce may just be the bane of his existence. "I was expecting complete failure, but it must've been your lasagna that saved the day," Peter tells her with a smile.

"Oh, you better believe it, Peter Parker. Why else would it be world-famous?" she laughs back to him before setting down her towel and bracing herself against the counter.

"Are you ok, Aunt May?" Peter asks, concerned. This is new.

"Yea, Peter. Just a headache, I guess. And achy joints. Guess I'm getting old, huh?"

"Never," Peter jokes back. But the joke falls flat since Aunt May really does look to be in pain. Peter turns off the faucet and wipes his hands on a towel to dry them off before grabbing the Advil from the cabinet.

"Here, Aunt May," Peter hands her the container. She wearily smiles back at him before grabbing the container and shaking one pill out. "I'll finish the dishes. No," Peter stops her when she gives him a look. "I can do this. You should rest. Making lasagna like yours is a lot of effort."

Aunt May looks at him as if searching for something in his eyes.

"Alright," she concedes. "But I'll have you know it was those cream puffs you devoured that took most of my time," she smiles at him before patting his arm and walking to her bedroom.

"Goodnight, Aunt May," he calls after her as he turns the water back on to finish the seemingly endless amount of dishes. It's at times like these he wishes they had a dishwashing machine. And he can't even risk using a little bit of super speed since he'll most likely end up breaking every single dish in the process. The old-fashioned way it is.  
_________________________________________________________

Done. He did it.

All the dishes are cleaned, dried, and put away. The table is cleaned and dried and the floor was swept too.

Now that's heroic.

Putting away his self-praise, Peter finally looks at the clock. 11:30! You have got to be kidding! How is it 11:30 already? The dinner started at 7, but they got there closer to 7:30, and then they ate and talked... and talked... and talked. Oh, right. The guys didn't end up leaving until sometime closer to 10. Wow. That's a long night. No wonder Aunt May had a headache.

Peter sighs quietly as he hangs his towel up to dry. Well, at least he finished cleaning up for Aunt May. That's worth it. Peter quietly walks to the bathroom, dragging his heavy feet almost the entire way. Peter brushes his teeth with what he can only assume is enhanced slowness. Finally finishing washing his teeth and face, Peter once again walks to his room, thoroughly exhausted. Probably from the emotional stress leading up to the whole ordeal.

Peter barely changes out of his clothes before dropping on to his bed. He can sleep tonight, right? It's not like one night without Spidey on the streets is really going to make a difference. Reassured, Peter eventually falls into an unpleasant sleep filled with Doc Oc and Doc Connors trying to drown him in the black, living goo.


	9. Chapter 9

"Morning, Aunt May," Peter says as he slips into the kitchen to start his breakfast.

"Oh Peter, have you seen what's on the news?" Aunt May distraughtly asks him. Puzzled, Peter abandons his attempts at breakfast and walks over to her where she's watching the television.

"The Lizard and his partner in crime were not seen afterward. Their break into Oscorp at one A.M. this morning was successful, according to the staff at Oscorp and Norman Osborn himself," J. Jonah Jameson says from the TV as fuzzy images pop up of Doc Connors and Doc Oc.

"After a thorough search through all laboratories and supply rooms, we found that multiple highly sensitive chemicals were stolen, as well as a few menial pieces of equipment. We only have a few injuries, but we can only speculate why such items were stolen," Mr. Osborn says as the screen switches to him.

"My best guess is that Spiderman is behind this," Triple J begins, making Peter facepalm. Of course, it's not him, but his boss will take any opportunity to destroy Peter's alter ego. Tuning out the rest of the news broadcast, Peter realizes that it may have been his fault. If he didn't go to sleep last night instead of going on patrol, then the Lizard and Doc Oc wouldn't've gotten those chemicals for who knows what. And then Oscorp, his best friend's dad's company, wouldn't've been broken into, or at least stolen from. And then those people wouldn't've gotten hurt...

"Peter?" Aunt May's voice cuts into his guilt session. "Are you alright?"

"Oh, uh, yea. I'm fine, Aunt May, just thinking. That's all," Peter stammers out.

"Maybe you should call Harry. I know you're worried about him since it is his family's company. It'd be a nice gesture at least." Peter nods, knowing the suggestion was more of a command rather than an option.

"Alright," Peter says before walking out of the apartment door and into the hallway to do so. Peter flips (he knows) his phone open and calls Harry's number. But it just keeps ringing. And ringing and ringing.

"Hey, Harry," Peter says into the voicemail machine. "I just heard what's on the news and figured I'd check in with you. Uh, just uh, give me a call back when you can." That was strange. Harry usually picks up his phone. He's probably just freaking out like Peter.

Now that Peter thinks about it, he should probably call his boss too. Maybe Triple J needs him to take pictures of the scene, and what better way would he get a look at the place to maybe find out what was stolen? Sounds like a plan. Except he has to call J. Jonah Jameson when he's mad. That's not good. But, Peter assumes, it's best to just get it over with, like ripping off a band-aid.

"Daily Bugle. This is Rebecca, how may I help you?" the lady at the front desk asks over the phone.

"Hey, Rebecca. It's Peter," he tells her. Thank goodness Rebecca picked up. She's really nice, unlike Cathy, the other lady who works at the front desk.

"Oh, Peter! How are you? Did you hear about the break-in at Oscorp? Triple J is pretty much off the walls thinking it's Spiderman," she chuckles. Peter and her have often commiserated with each other over their boss's obsession with ruining Spiderman's reputation. It's kind of nice to know his alter ego has someone in his corner.

"I just saw it on TV. I figured I'd call in and see if Triple J wants me to take some pictures there," Peter tries to offer real nonchalantly. Not that he's ever really good at being inconspicuous.

"That was smart of you. Tom's out today for his daughter's birthday in the Poconos and Johnathan is sick. He's already two photographers down. I'll patch you through, how does that sound?" she kindly informs him. Sounds like he'll get to go after all.

"Thanks so much, Rebecca," Peter thanks her.

"Of course, Peter. And good luck," she kindly tells him before patching him through to his boss's phone. Peter takes a deep breath. This really won't be so bad, right? Triple J likes him, just not Spiderman (although it's hard for Peter to differentiate between the two).

"Peter. What can I do for you? I don't suppose you're calling to take pictures?" Peter hears his boss tease over the phone.

"Uh, actually, sir, I called for just that. I wanted to know if you need me to take pictures of the scene," Peter bites his lower lip. He should really go and see what Doc Oc and Doc Connors wanted with Oscorp, but he doesn't want to blow his cover either.

"You must be a mind reader, son," Triple J laughs in relief. "I lost two photographers already. If you'd take some photos and give them to me by 2, we'd make the morning edition for sure. Just hop on over here first, I'll give you a Bugle pass at the front desk to show the cops. That should get you into some areas at least. And I'll have you go with Jack so that he can write up a report. Sound good?" Wow. That was super easy. Like super easy. Why doesn't everything go this smoothly for Peter?

"Uh, yes. That sounds awesome Mr. Jameson," Peter spits out, still stunned at his luck. "I'll grab my camera and head out now."  
___________________________________________________________________________________

"What do you think we'll find there, Pete?" Jack asks him.

"I dunno. Probably lots of cops, a mess, and lots of damaged property," Peter tells his reporting partner of the day. Peter's lucky. He likes Jack. The guy is pretty cool and he's almost out of college. The guy really likes to help Peter with "honing in his reporting skills". Not that Peter's really interested in reporting, but it helps him know what to focus his photos on.

"You don't say," Jack laughs at Peter's response. "You think the police captain will be there? Who is it again? They did replace Captain Stacy, right?" Jack asks. Peter feels the words get caught up in his throat. He doesn't like to think too much about Gwen's dad. He died because Peter wasn't fast enough, smart enough, and strong enough to defeat the Lizard on his own. But Peter learned from his mistake. He practices with his webs and trains himself so that that doesn't happen again.

"Pete?" Jack asks, concerned over Peter's lack of response. Usually the kid's nonstop talking.

"Sorry. Sorry. Uh, they did replace Captain Stacy. But I think there won't be too many cops left since it's been a while since the break-in," Peter answers.

"So we'll need to find the most senior cop there, maybe find a few witnesses, maybe some employees if we're lucky. I want you to take some pictures of the wreckage. We really want people to see those two monsters as menaces. Maybe I can get the police's opinion on those two in general. Take pictures of things as you find them, and then we'll go over them. Sound good?" Jack asks as they step out of the subway.

"Yep. Sounds good," Peter responds as he climbs up the steps to see the Oscorp tower in all its glory. In all honesty, Peter prefers seeing the towers from up above, swinging from one to the next. It's freeing, really.

"Detective Palmer!" Jack calls out to the cop he recognizes, increasing his walking speed, and therefore Peter's.

"Jack. It's good to see you again. Here to report for Triple J?" Detective Palmer asks him from her position at the barricade and police tape.

"Yes, ma'am. And I have a photographer with me. Do you remember Peter?" Jack asks, presenting Peter to the cop.

"I think so. Peter... Parker, is it?" she asks Peter, probably seeing his name tag for aide in the name.

"Uh, yes ma'am," he responds, fixing the strap of his camera bag on his shoulder before reaching his hand out for a handshake.

"You've got a firm grip there, kid," she tells him with bemusement in her eyes. Oh, she has no idea. "Well, Jack," she addresses the elder of the duo, "I assume you need some interviews around here? And a synopsis of what happened, right?" Jack nods his head in reply. "You can head on over to Smith. Peter, you can come with me, and I'll let you take some pictures. Sound good?" she tells him, not really giving him an option.

"Perfect," Peter tells her, slightly intimidated by having to separate from Jack, but Peter simply swallows his fear. He faces scarier situations every night. He even swings across the city tens of feet up in the air on thin cables, why is he scared of this?

Peter takes as many pictures as he can, filling up an SD card before he even makes it to the main scene of the crime.

"Here's where the chemicals were stolen," Detective Palmer tells him out of the silence, making Peter jump. Thankfully, she doesn't comment on it. "The employees couldn't identify which ones exactly, but they said they were highly sensitive. All of the ones not stolen were placed somewhere else for everyone's safety. But watch your step, kid. There's still evidence and chemicals on the ground," she warns him. Peter suddenly feels very out of place in the crime scene. This isn't usually his thing. He stops crime and fights crime, he doesn't report crime. But Peter keeps snapping pictures and walking around, using his Spidey sense to tell him where he should and shouldn't step. He does not want to gain more weird radioactive powers from an Oscorp lab.

"This room was one of their genetics facilities. Oscorp was looking at that selective child thing. You know, you could possibly stop your child's heart attack 40 years prior by mingling with their genes. Or you could choose their eye color. There was other stuff too, but that's the one project that stood out to me. I'm not into all this science," she explains, trying to keep the conversation going for Peter's benefit.

"I like science. I actually worked as an intern at Oscorp for a little while," Peter supplies as he takes photos of the claw marks on the wall. "I worked with Doctor Connors's division before he went all... lizard-y."

"Sorry to hear that, kid. Was he evil back then? I heard some of my co-workers say he was actually a decent guy beforehand."

"Yea. He was really nice. He just really wanted to find a way to grow back his arm, like a lizard. He was a friend of my dad's too," Peter supplies as walks over to the Detective, ready to leave the main scene and take photos of the surroundings and the people.

"Was a friend? What happened between them?" she innocently asks. She couldn't have known.

"My dad passed away," Peter says, trying to keep his volume and tone level. It really shouldn't affect him so much. Dad died when he was six, he couldn't have really known him. He doesn't remember too much of his mom and dad anyway. It's Uncle Ben's death that hurt so much more.

"Oh. I'm so sorry, Peter," she says, pity and empathy instantly washing over her features.

"Don't worry about it, I was six," Peter tries to brush off the topic as they make their way back over to Jack.

"Ready to go, Pete?" Jack asks him, putting away his notepad, pencil, and recording device.

"I think so. We can look at some of the pictures on the subway?" Peter asks as they walk away, waving to the cops who helped them out.

"Sure thing. Want to know what I learned?" Jack asks Peter like he's dangling a bone to a dog. Peter simply nods his head "yes", trying not to seem too eager.

"They think the Lizard is still Doctor Connors. He used some override codes that only a few employees would have known. Not everything was broken down or barged into. It's either that or that Octopus guy is some employee there. Or was an employee there. Or they had inside help. But like I said, it's not like many people know those codes. Those people are so invested in the company, that they'd have no reason to steal from it unless they were being threatened or something. But I honestly can't imagine Osborn being threatened."

"When I was taking pictures of one of Spiderman's fights," Peter uses his usual lie, "that Octopus guy called himself Otto Octavius." Jack's eyebrows crinkle at Peter's information. "Was Octavius an employee there?" Jack pulls out his notepad again from his bag, searching through his notes for the name.

"Well, I have his name written down here. He was an employee there that had stolen chemicals before. Stormin' Norman fired him soon after. This was only a few months ago. How 'bout that?" Jack asks him. "Thanks for that, Pete. I get to add something to the article. Maybe we'll make the front page!" Jack smiles and slaps him lightheartedly on the arm.

"Jack, did you find out what chemicals were taken? Or what could be done with some of those chemicals?" Peter asks. He has to know what Doc Oc is planning with that stuff.

"It's for some blood mutations for their DNA changes. That's what most of the chemicals are for. But others are used for curing diseases prematurely. Take your pick from that. They really could be up to anything," Jack tells him, thinking of the situation himself. "Wanna know something else? The cops saw some sand around the place. Sand, Pete! Why in the world would there be sand in Oscorp, where the place is supposed to be super clean and sterile? What's the point of that?"

"I don't know," Peter responds to the rhetorical question, trying his best to come up with a good enough reason for sand to show up in NYC. What is anyone doing with sand? "How much sand was there?"

"When the cops first showed up: they guessed almost two 3 lb bags. When we got there: about a couple handfuls. That's it. There wasn't any wind to blow it away, but the security cameras showed it moving out the doors to outside. That's all an interesting mystery, but I don't think Triple J will like a mystery on the front page. I think I'll put it in a separate, tiny article. Get the word out, but don't freak 'em out. You know?"

"Yea. I know."


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still moving chapters over, so hopefully, I can get a few more in today.

Peter is exhausted. He's probably fallen asleep in several of his classes already. Only one teacher yelled at him for it. But Peter decides that he deserves this. He had to go on an extra long patrol last night to make up for his absence on Saturday. And his extra long patrol didn't involve beating up a certain evil lizard and octopus, much to his dismay. It was full of normal, petty crime, though.

"Peter?" Gwen asks, waving a hand in front of his face. Peter must've spaced out again. Well, it's not the first time today.

"Huh?" he eloquently answers her.

"What's with you today? If I didn't know better, I'd guess you were sleepwalking for the past 2 minutes," Gwen scolds him as they continue their trek to chemistry. Last class of the day. Thank goodness.

"Sorry, Gwen. Late night."

"How long were you out?" she asks, clearly understanding what he meant.

"From 9 to 4," Peter says as he scrubs his face, trying to invoke energy into himself before his class.

"Peter!" Gwen hisses in shock and dismay. "You can't be doing that! You need to sleep."

"Well, I don't need to sleep as much as I used to. Plus, I didn't go out on Saturday and I needed to make up for it," Peter answers as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"Peter you can't be punishing yourself over that. None of it was your fault."

"Well, tell that to Harry," Peter says, thinking of his stressed friend. All day Harry had been quiet, subdued, and royally ticked off. Probably the residue from his father's mood in the morning and last night from the break-in at Oscorp.

"Peter, Harry doesn't blame anyone except the Lizard and Doc Oc. He certainly isn't blaming Spiderman," she tells him as they come to a stop outside their classroom. "So try and cut him some slack. He's only human."

"Superhuman," Peter smiles as he jokingly corrects her.

"Superhuman," she agrees with a similar smile, rolling her eyes. "One that may be super exhausted if he doesn't get to sleep on time tonight," she finally tells him as they walk into class.  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Good luck in detention, Peter," Gwen tells him as she leaves for her Math League meeting. "Let me know how it goes if you'd like." Peter only nods his head and offers a weak smile. He's so no looking forward to his detention with Flash. But maybe with a teacher there, Flash won't be so unbearable. Well, it also depends on which teacher is there giving their detention.

Finally, after everyone's left the classroom, including their teacher, Peter stands up from his desk and slowly swings his backpack onto his shoulder. He knows that going slow won't help him get rid of his detention. In fact, if he's late, they'll just add time at the end of his detention. The time he missed and extra time. No thank you.

So Peter forces himself out the door and down the hallway to Mrs. Skidmik's office. She's the head of all disciplinary action, and she's not Peter's biggest fan. Probably because he gets detention so often because of Flash, but none of the teachers ever stopped to consider that.

"Hi Ms. Skidmik," Peter greets her in a way to announce his presence in the doorway.

"Mr. Parker. I thought you were in detention today," she greets back, placing her pen down on her desk where the Daily Bugle is open to Peter's pictures of the scene he went to yesterday.

"Uh, yeah, but I was never told where the detention's being held or who it's with," Peter tells her getting right to the point. The headline reads: Coldblooded Break-in at Oscorp. Coldblooded because of lizards and octopi. That's a good one. Peter will have to commend Jack for that one.

"Perhaps you should have asked earlier, Mr. Parker. A little forethought on your part would be appreciated. Room 129, Mr. Parker," she sighs. "The drawing room with Mr. Snyder. I believe you and Mr. Thompson will be scrubbing desks along with other chores of Mr. Snyder's choice."

"Thanks," Peter says, ripping his eyes away from his and Jack's article currently laying on Ms. Skidmik's desk.

"You better walk quickly, Mr. Parker. By the looks of it, you're already five minutes late," she informs him as she takes her pen back in her hand. Clearly, Peter's dismissed.  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------

"Mr. Snyder?" Peter tentatively calls into the drawing room over the music being played. Peter's relieved when he sees Mr. Snyder's head pop out from the back of the classroom behind the supply cabinets.

"Peter! Just in time! I'm gonna have you and Flash clean the sharpie, pen, paint, and charcoal off the desks here. Flash will particularly be cleaning the rude images he drew on my desks," Mr. Snyder grumbles at the last part. Peter can only assume he means the line drawings of male genitalia along with the rude language scribbled on others. It's kind of Flash's thing.

"Wait he's not here yet?" Peter asks. Of course Flash is late.

"No. So let's make the most of it while you're here. Don't worry, just because Flash isn't here doesn't mean you should have to stay late. I'll start an hour timer," Mr. Snyder puts Peter's troubles at ease, walking away to do as he said.

"How are you holding up from Friday, Pete?" Mr. Snyder asks from his desk, attempting to set the time on his phone. "I mean, no offense, but you were pretty beat up by Flash. I'm surprised they didn't give him more detention."

"Oh. Uh, no. No, not really. I'm perfectly fine now," Peter stutters, trying to remain calm and keep Mr. Snyder far away from suspicions. Spraying the first desk, Peter continues," I mean, you could barely tell that Flash used a human punching bag on Friday."

"Peter, how often does that happen?" Mr. Snyder asks. Peter shakes his head in response, continuing to scrub the sharpie makes off the desk with the miracle remover of Mr. Snyder's.

"Alright. Moving on," Mr. Snyder catches Peter's attitude change. Peter could probably kiss someone when his spider-sense tells him that someone is approaching the classroom, bound to cut Mr. Snyder off from his next topic. "How've you been since your Unc -"

"Flash," Mr. Snyder interrupts himself upon Flash's appearance. "You and Peter are going to clean the desks for me today. And if you're done early, we're cleaning paint brushes. So grab a bottle over there and get your hour started. I want every single one of your dick drawings gone." Flash nods at Mr. Snyder's order but sends Peter a glare that certainly isn't friendly.

Peter continues to scrub one of the desks as Flash slowly walks over to the desk next to Peter with his own spray. Flash angrily sprays and scrubs the first desk, something Peter found amusing. How often do you see a football jock angrily washing desks like a kid in a temper tantrum?

"Feel proud, Parker? Making me miss practice?" Flash seethes under his breath so that Mr. Snyder wouldn't hear despite the loud music. Peter knows what Flash is doing, and it's not going to work. Baiting Peter so that he hits Flash (as if he'd ever do that) and get more detention from it.

"You'll be the reason we lose the game this Friday. It'll be all your fault, Parker." Honestly, Peter could care less about the school football team, none of them had ever been really nice to him.

"But you don't care, do you? You want to crush everyone in this school because you hate all of us. You think you're so much better, don't you Puny Parker?" Flash is one to talk.

"Just because you've got good grades and are the teacher's pet," Flash continues to try and irk Peter. This guy should really just give up. Peter's not going to be so careless. So Peter just picks up his spray and paper towels and moves a desk over.

"Everyone thinks you're such a sob story. Your parents died when you were young, leaving you with your aunt and uncle," Flash says, following Peter down the row of desks. "I bet they left you because you were awful. Ugly, scrawny, puny Parker. And then your Uncle got himself killed trying to play hero. Wouldn't be surprised if he got himself killed just to get away from you. But you were there that night weren't you? It's probably your fault he's dead anyway," Flash continues, clearly reading Peter's tense body language at the mention of his parents and Uncle Ben. Yep, definitely struck a sore spot.

"Shut up, Flash," Peter says, scrubbing the desk harder and faster so that he can move to the other side of the room.

"Ooo, did I hit it on the nail, punk? Well, get over it, Parker. They've been long gone. It's about time you move on. But how can you? You're too weak, too cowardly, and it's all your fault that they're dead," Flash finishes, smiling as if he won something other than breaking Peter's precariously taped heart. Peter can almost feel his heart crumble inside his chest.

"I said, shut. UP!" Peter shouts back at him, catching Mr. Snyder's attention.

"What's going on over there?" Mr. Snyder asks, walking over in his best intimidating stance.

"Nothing, Mr. Snyder," Flash says with an innocent face plastered on. Peter just scoffs at Flash, his own rage slowly boiling over, fueled by all his hurt.

"Peter, how about you help me clean some of these palates? After all, Flash has lots of desks to clean of his 'artwork'," Mr. Snyder says, steering Peter back to the sinks behind the supply cabinets, and most importantly, away from Flash.

"You ok, Pete?" Mr. Snyder asks, handing Peter the first palate of the stack next to the sink. Is he alright? No, not really. Has he ever been alright since Uncle Ben died? No, now that he thinks about it. But Peter can't bring himself to say yes or no. Lie or tell the truth? Take the pity or be disrespectful?

"Do you want to talk about it?" Mr. Snyder asks, placing a comforting hand on Peter's shoulder. Mr. Snyder probably took his silence as a 'no', which would be correct. "If you tell me, I can report him for what he said," Mr. Snyder says. "Well, depending on what he said," Mr. Snyder gives Peter a smile.

But Flash can't really be reported for telling the truth. It was Peter's fault that Uncle Ben died. He could've stopped the guy who killed him before he even saw Uncle Ben. And who's to say that his parents didn't want him? They did leave him after all and then they died for one reason or another. Maybe they died because of him? Wouldn't that make him a murderer from age six?

"Peter," Mr. Snyder's voice pulls Peter out of his mind. Peter looks at Mr. Snyder, seeing a strange mix of emotions on the man's face. Pity. Compassion. Sorrow. Camaraderie.

"You don't have to tell me, but know that you shouldn't believe what bullies say. They string half-truths together to bring us down. Just let the words flow over you like water on stone," Mr. Snyder says before turning back to the sink and the palates, beginning to scrub off some dried paint. Peter nods even though Mr. Snyder couldn't see it. So he follows his favorite teacher's lead and begins to scrub his own palate.  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------

"Peter," Aunt May greets her nephew once she sees him in the doorway. Aunt May is in the kitchen, sitting at the table with various papers spread around her. Peter smiles back to her, trying to seem happy for her sake, especially since she seems a little bit stressed out.

"Hey Aunt May," he says as he takes out his keys from the lock and closes the door behind him.

"How was school today?" she asks, taking off her glasses and putting down her own pen.

"Uh, fine. Same old, same old. How was your day?" he asks as he walks past her to open the fridge. Peter looks over her shoulder at the papers he could see. Yes, he knows he shouldn't be prying, but they're just laying out there. It's hard to read most of the small print from where he is, but Peter can take a pretty good guess that it's the rent for the month or taxes.

"Pretty good. Work was the same. Boring. But I think I got another permanent job rather than just subbing for Patty at yoga. She wants me to instruct every once in a while."

"Cool," Peter says in between spoonfuls of banana yogurt. He'll eat whatever he can get since his metabolism skyrocketed after the spider bite.

"Are you ok, Peter? You seem off, sweetheart," she asks him, her eyebrows crinkling together. Darn. He worried her. He probably didn't seem happy enough for her. She doesn't deserve this, she's already stressed enough. Between making ends meet and her multiple jobs and having to take care of Peter, she's stretched pretty thin.

"Sorry, Aunt May. I'm good, promise. I think I'm going to do some homework now, and then I can help out with dinner."


	11. Chapter 11

Peter could really count on the brisk New York air to brighten his mood. Well, it was probably the fact that he was swinging about 15 stories high in the air that was helping his mood. Detention with Flash had really stunk. And what Flash said put Peter in a funk for a while too. He could barely focus on his homework. Probably because what Flash said rang true and played in his head like a broken record. So Peter tried to finish his homework before deciding to just go out on patrol after dinner. Tried being the key word; he still hadn't finished his Spanish worksheet yet.

But he totally made the right decision.

It was only midnight and Peter had already stopped three muggings and two attempts of rape. Not to mention, he did stop one robbery. It was all pretty easy and Peter came out unscathed for the most part. One of the mugging victims did slap him pretty hard. Ungrateful.

And Peter is enjoying the quiet (despite his slightly stung cheek) as he sits on a roof. Man, he still can't get over his view of the city from up here, and he really hopes he never will. Sitting here is such a refresher from normal life. It's as if once he puts on that mask, he feels like a totally different person. He's more confident, fearless, strategic, and witty. Not that he isn't those things as normal Peter Parker, but they're so much more prominent as Spiderman. It's not like Spiderman gets beat up by bullies or gets verbally abused by them.

"NYPD, NY Fire and Rescue. Daily Bugle Building, 13th floor, automated alarm activation from secured safe. Smoke and electrical fire reported on the same floor. 35-year-old male unconscious from electric shock," Peter's police pager goes off, making him slightly jump. Wait. The Daily Bugle? Uh-oh. 35-year-old male? That could be Triple J. His office is on the 13th floor. As much as Peter bemoans about his boss, he doesn't hate him that much to just leave him there in an electrical fire.

Without thinking too much more about it, Peter slings a web and web-swings across his favorite city to his second least favorite place: work.

Wait, what could've made an electrical fire? Peter's boss is a huge stickler about regulations, especially with all of their equipment since it's all so expensive. Damn, hopefully, the Daily Bugle has good insurance or Peter's going to see it in his paycheck, which he really can't go without.

Landing on the side of the building across the street, Peter can clearly see flames coming out of the building's glass windows. And some actually look broken. What happened here? Didn't they just get inspected by an electrician not a few weeks ago? (Peter remembers all of his boss's moaning and groaning about it).

Well, no time like the present. So Peter slings a web to the Daily Bugle building and launches himself into the window on the thirteenth floor. Peter rolls out of the swing, right on to shards of glass. Oh, come on! He thought someone opened the window, not that the window was broken. Groaning at his bad luck and the idea of having to take out glass later (and certainly not the little bites of pain from it), Peter forces himself up onto his feet.

"Hello! Is anyone in here!" Peter yells. Taking a deep breath of clean air, Peter makes his way into the hallway and the light smoke.

"Mr. Jameson! Hello?! Is anyone here?" Peter yells down the hall. Quickly running past some of the end rooms, Peter peeks his head in, only to find no one in them. Well, that makes his job a little easier. Taking another deep breath that may have been 10 percent smoke, Peter runs to the other end of the hall before he hears it. Two people are talking. And it's not Triple J. Peter forces himself to slow down to a tip-toe to try and hear some of the conversation.

"Please. What do you want from us?" a girl frantically asks, letting only a bit of fear slide into her voice. Guess it was good that Peter slowed down.

"Oh, nothing you can give me, darling. I just want to have a nice little chat with your boss here," an electric voice sickly says back. Wait, boss? Is that Triple J? Is he still unconscious?

"You're the one who knocked him out with your freaky electric powers. It's your own fault," she says as Peter makes his way to the door of the room they're in. Peter takes a deep breath and slowly peeks his head in. He should've taken a deeper breath.

There's Triple J on the floor, being protected by one of the Daily Bugle's employees from a man who seems engulfed in crackling electricity. And what's worse is he's wearing a bright green outfit that seems to have been made more electric in color.

Peter has to physically restrain himself from gasping. What the heck is happening to New York these days?

"I needed to teach Mr. Jameson here who is in charge, yes? And, I needed to open the safe to grab some of his money and more precious items. You see, your boss has some... news on items my friends and I need. I can't have him blabbing to everyone about what we're doing, now can I?" he smiles to the woman kneeling in front of her boss, spots of her skirt and shirt singed, and her hair falling out of its bun. "Speaking of which..." he sinisterly sneers before turning to Triple J's desk and sending pure electricity at it, causing the computer to ring with electricity, sparking and exploding with showers of sparks.

"Now, go. I don't want to hurt you or your boss, but I need to take care of all his stuff," the electric man tells her with (can that be?) sorrow in his voice.

"What are you going to do?" she asks, standing up to her full height to try and intimidate him. Good call.

"I can't tell you. But you might as well not come into work tomorrow," he says, reaching behind him to fry another monitor on Peter's boss's desk.

"Woa, woa, woa, you can't be getting all spark happy in here. Didn't your parents ever tell you that it's dangerous to play with electricity?" Peter shoots a web, grabbing the man's wrist and yanking it away from the computers. No need to cause more sparks and more fire.

"Spiderman," he seethes in his weirdly electric voice. "I was warned I might meet you."

"What can I say? I don't disappoint," Peter taunts back, checking over the situation. The woman (who Peter really wished he knew the name of) seems fine except for a few burn marks and singes, and Triple J is still out for the count. Just great. Peter's probably going to have to carry him out of the building.

"No. I suppose you don't," he says, just as Peter's spidey sense rings, compelling him to jump to the side, tackling the woman to the floor as electricity hits the TV screens behind where they were just standing.

"I'm gonna get you out of here, ok?" Peter tells her, trying his best to be comforting. Looking around the room, Peter grabs a chair with his webs and slings it at the man, hitting him straight in the chest. Hearing a groan, Peter congratulates himself just a bit.

Oh yea, he better check and see if his boss is ok.

"Mr. Jameson? Are you with me?" Peter asks as he reaches towards his neck to take the man's pulse. It's erratic, and hard to find, but it's there. With no response, Peter turns to the woman. "What's your name?"

"Uh-Jackie," she confusedly looks at him. Yea, what type of hero asks for someone's name in the middle of a crisis?

"Jackie, I'm gonna have to carry Mr. Jameson. You need to come with me. We're going to have to go down the stairs since this psycho can probably shock the elevator. And we cannot touch the railings. Clear?" Peter takes charge of the situation, about to stand up and lift his boss.

"THAT'S IT!" the electric man yells from underneath the very heavy sofa chair. With his electricity, the chair is blasted off of the man, going right into the wall and bookshelf of some very expensive nicknacks. "You are going down, Spiderman!" he furiously stands up, shooting electricity at their little huddle. Wasting no time from when his spidey senses went off, Peter slings a web at the little water cooler Triple J insisted on having in his office and hurls it at the freaky spark man. (He could really use a name too).

"GAAAHHHHHH," the man yells in agony as the water shocks him, causing him to crumple on to the ground.

"New plan, Jackie. Drag Mr. Jameson as far as you can. I'll catch up with you," Peter says before sending more webbing at Socket (no, that's an awful name. Forget he even thought that), wrapping him up in the fluid before he becomes more coherent. Once Peter finished, he looks back to find the Jackie already left with Triple J, with only her abandoned high heels as evidence of her presence.

At that moment, Peter's sense erupts in pins and needles, making him turn around to find electricity about to strike him. Narrowly missing the hit, Peter jumps to the side and slings more web at Electric Light Orchestra (oh, come on, no ELO fans out there?) to pull him out of the room and in the opposite direction of the stairs. Instead, the electricity creeps up Peter's web and into his web shooter. Peter watches in terror as time nearly slows down and he loses a web shooter to sparks. Just great.

"Hey, no cool man. Do you know how much time it takes to make one of these?" Peter yells back, yanking his wrist free from the web.

"Leave me alone. I wasn't going to hurt anyone, Spiderman!"

"Yea right. Is that why Triple J was unconscious when I got here? And why Jackie had burn marks all over her?" With a growl in response and being clearly distracted, Peter runs up and kicks him into the hallway to go to the bathrooms. Perfect. Douse him in water. And they're not too far away.

Peter makes the tactical decision to not run away (because that's clearly not what he's doing, no sir), but to simply run to the bathroom in hopes that Sparky will follow him.

"Hey! Sparky! Are you too chicken? I'm over here!" Peter yells, successfully getting the madman to run after him into the men's bathroom. At the sink, Peter yanks off the handle for water, setting water to spray everywhere. He learned that from his first morning with new powers. Let's just say that Aunt May and their landlord weren't too happy over it.

Peter sends webbing over all the faucets and handles, using his finger to spray the webbing, and yanks towards himself to pull off all the metal. Peter ducks as water and sink pieces fly everywhere. Hallelujah, it's raining mercy. Diving under the sink, Peter watches as Sparky gets doused in more water, and hit by a few sink handles.

"AHHHHHH!" Peter watches as his adversary falls to the ground in more pain, right into a soaked floor. Seeing his chance, Peter sends webbing to one of the toilets, ripping out some of the plumbing to spray even more water.

"Aww, does kitty not like water?" Peter jokes at him, seeing the man try and get up from the floor without any blue electricity cracking around him. "Well, you got a bath anyway," Peter uses his lone remaining web shooter to bind the man up. "Have fun waiting for the cops and firemen," Peter yells as he runs out of the bathroom to the stairs. He has to help Jackie. She can't have gotten too far with having to drag Jameson down the stairs. Peter runs into the door, shoving it open with his body weight, too focused on helping Jackie than his soaked outfit, causing him to slip down the first flight of stairs. Ow ow ow. No fun.

"Is that really the kind of reward I get for helping out?" Peter asks out loud to himself.

"Spiderman! Is that you!" Peter whips his head up as he hears Jackie yell up from three floors below.

"Yes! I'm coming!" Peter shouts, using his super-stick powers to run down the stairs safely and not slip.

"Thank God you're ok," she says once he meets up with her. Getting enveloped in a wet hug, Peter can't stop himself from smiling. Some people appreciate his help. It feels pretty good.

"Sparky got a bath, and I bound him up in webbing, but I don't know if he's going to stay like that very long. Besides, I can see the smoke getting thicker," Peter tells her.

"Let's get going then," she says, all seriousness back on her face as she lets go of her boss's arms. Peter very carefully picks his boss up in a fireman's carry, not feeling any strain under the weight whatsoever, but wanting to be careful not to injure his worst critic. It's about five floors later of running that Peter can barely see through the smoke, and starts to have a difficult time breathing. Just great.

And it's when Jackie starts coughing that Peter feels his spidey sense go off. Fearfully looking up the stairs, Peter sees Sparky (ok, that name is really starting to wear off), descending the stairs towards them.

"Jackie, we've gotta..." Peter tries to tell Jackie to run but sees that she's sitting on one of the stairs, coughing and trying her best not to look so dazed. "Oh, crap."

Alright, Jackie can't climb any more stairs. And he still needs to get Jameson down too. And they can't go up and they can't go to another staircase since these floors are probably filled with fire. And if they stay here any longer, they'll either suffocate, pass out from lack of oxygen, or get fried by Sparkles. Taking a deep breath that's now about 70 percent smoke, Peter picks up Jackie in his free arm (thank the Lord that she's only about 5'4"), and balances the weight of two bodies on his person before climbing down the stairs. Peter holds on to them with all his might, still trying his hardest to not leave a bruise, using his abilities to stick to things, including them right now.

"I will catch you, Spiderman!" Peter hears Sparkles (is that really any better?) yell from a mere two flights above them. Alright, Peter, think! You're four floors up, the staircase is filled with smoke, you can hardly see, and a shocking maniac is pursuing you. Think of something!

With a huff, Peter opens the door to the fourth floor and walks into what he thinks has to be the hottest room in the building. Flames are licking the ceiling and walls all around him. Damn. And the smoke detectors have not stopped ringing, making his enhanced ears hurt. Looking around the cubicle room, Peter spots the closest and least flame filled window before making his way over to it. Setting Jackie down, and then Mr. Jameson, Peter fumbles with the window for a few seconds before simply punching the glass out. Picking up Mr. Jameson first, Peter sprays webbing around him and then ends it in a long cord, frantically moving as fast as he can. Lifting his boss up again, Peter steps out the window and lowers Mr. Jameson down the building with his webbing.

"Spiderman!" a few cops yell from below, astounded as to what the superhero is doing. Well, he can't very well leave Jackie here either. A few cops and firemen get the memo and wait with outstretched arms to catch Triple J at the bottom. Gritting his teeth just a bit, Peter manages to lower his boss down safely into the cops and firemen's arms.

"We got him!" Peter hops back inside with the confirmation. Seeing Jackie now fully unconscious, Peter gently picks her up over his shoulder.

"Not so fast there, bug," Peter stops in his attempt at climbing back out the window. Turning just enough, Peter sees a very angry Sparkles waiting for him, electricity cracking at his fingertips, ready to strike.

"What happened to not wanting to hurt people? Do you really want to hurt me?" Peter asks, hoping to get him to back down.

"People have never cared for me, Spiderman. Why should I really care for them? Have you ever felt so squashed by everyone around you? Huh! I am doing what I must to survive," Sparkles declares while Peter coughs from the smoke that's surrounding him from trying to escape out the window. "You can never understand what I have to do. They are making me as Electro do this, Spiderman. I have no choice!" he shouts, losing his control as electricity shoots through the fried computers and their wires towards Peter and Jackie.

Making a last minute decision, Peter jumps out the window, cradling Jackie as he tries to surround himself as much as he can around her before taking the brunt of the fall into the parked car below.

"Owwwww..." Peter groans from his position on his back, watching as electricity creeps out of the window and down the wires of the building to street lamps.

"Spiderman!" a voice shouts from his right. "Are you alright, son?" a frantic paramedic asks.

"Help her first," Peter tells him. "There was too much smoke," Peter coughs out, trying to get them to understand what happened. When the paramedics have lifted Jackie off of Peter, he groans and sits himself up, getting his bearings. What is it with him and jumping out of burning buildings from the fourth floor? Can't he just get a break?

"Spiderman, are you okay? You keep falling from buildings," the paramedic comes back and Peter recognizes him as the one who tried to help him last time.

"I'm in tip-top shape, sir. There was less smoke this time. Just more electricity," Peter tells him as he moves to slide off the car.

"You really shouldn't be moving around, Spiderman. We need to check you out for any spinal injuries," the paramedic says, grabbing Peter's arm. Peter looks back at the man, seeing that it's only the one paramedic who is interested in him and that all the bystanders, cameramen, firemen, and cops are more interested in the building and Jackie. As it should be.

"I'll be fine," Peter says, easily pulling his arm out of the man's grasp and wincing only a little bit at the movement. Thank goodness for his mask, or else the paramedic wouldn't've believed him. "Thanks for the concern though, no one else tends to really care about their friendly neighborhood Spiderman," Peter tells him, tipping an imaginary hat before slinging a web to another building with his sole web-shooter.

"Maybe they will now..." the paramedic says, looking back at the police and fire lights and the commotion all around them. Spiderman had single-handedly helped save J. Jonah Jameson and the woman protecting him from what looked like an electric man before he disappeared. People are bound to start to care.


	12. Chapter 12

Peter wished that he could simply sleep in his bed after a hard nights work as a vigilante. However, Peter never has such luck. He has to peel the sweaty Spiderman suit off of his sore body and then fix his fried web-shooter. And to top it off, he never got to name the new villain! The guy had to go and name himself Electro, which was pretty lame in Peter's opinion. He spent a lot of time trying to think of bad guy names while fighting. What an ingrate.

Sighing to himself, Peter gets to work on his web shooter, knowing that if he doesn't fix it now, he'll need it tomorrow and won't have it. Guess he won't be getting any sleep tonight. One of the sacrifices of his line of work.  
\---------------------------------------------------------

Peter can say with absolute certainty that so far he is not enjoying his day. Not one bit. It all started out in his first class with Harry, hearing all the lies told by one J. Jonah Jameson about Spiderman. Apparently, Spiderman was working with the self-proclaimed baddie, Electro, to attack his biggest critic. As if Peter would ever do that. Apparently, Triple J is simply ungrateful for having his life saved by Spiderman.

But some people like Jackie were trying to stand up for their friendly neighborhood Spiderman (not that it did much). Harry was livid to hear all of this and simply had to tell Peter all about it. And Peter ended up having to comfort his friend about the slander being told about himself. It was almost strangely perverse in some way. And apparently, Spiderman's #1 fan, Flash Thompson, was also livid about the lies told about his favorite hero. So Flash decided to take his frustrations out on Peter with some loverly verbal abuse thrown in there. Again, Peter's life is very strange. Guess that's what happens when you gain superpowers from a radioactive spider bite.

Peter's bad day continued with a not so fun pop quiz followed by a not so great grade to accompany it. And then he ended up in his second (but thankfully final) detention, with a substitute teacher because Mr. Snyder wasn't there. Just fantastic. The one person who would've made this detention tolerable just had to be absent. Not to mention, all day, he's been unrelentingly sore from his fall onto the car last night, which Gwen chastised him for.

So right now, Peter's understandably miserable, cleaning more desks and sharpening charcoal pencils with an x-acto knife for his detention. At least the sub isn't paying much attention to him; he can go pretty slow and do almost nothing.

Peter's sharpening his thirty-seventh pencil when he hears screams coming from the hallway. Terrified screams. As if it were a switch, Peter's spidey sense starts ringing, increasing its intensity as the screams near and pass his classroom. He has to go investigate. Great power comes with great responsibility and all that. But he can't very well just leave. He is in detention, after all.

"Uh, sir? I've only got three minutes left, can I head out now?" Peter asks the hard of hearing substitute, hoping he doesn't realize that Peter has more like fifteen minutes left.

"Sure, sure," the sub says without lifting his head out of his book. Score! Peter grabs his bag and runs out of the classroom to see a bunch of girls in his year running down the hall. Okay... Peter runs the way they came to find the football coach (who hates Peter just as much as his athletes do) engulfed in sand except for his head. What the heck? Well, it at least looks like sand from behind the corner that Peter's sticking his head out of.

"Help! Someone help! There's a san-" the coach of Peter's bullies shouts into an almost empty school, only to be muffled by the sand. Wait a hot second - did the sand just move? Peter rubs his eyes. He clearly must be seeing things, he didn't get a whole lot of sleep last night after all. But when he looks back, the sand is still on the coach's mouth. What the heck is happening these days? Suddenly sand can just move of its own free will?

"No one's coming, Coach," a voice says, startling Peter. Wait, did the sand just talk? Next he knows, it'll be doing the can-can down the hall. That'd be a real sight. "You had your chance years ago. This is only payback for what you did to me." The sand contracts, squeezing Coach Ranskin painfully. Wait. Did Peter hear that right? The coach of his school's football team knows this talking sand?

That's it. Peter's made up his mind. No more watching around the corner. He has to do something. Running to the desolate bathroom behind him, Peter locks a stall and changes into his Spidey outfit. Thank goodness he fixed his fried web-shooter last night. Or else he'd be toast right expertly climbs out of the stall, leaving it locked with his book bag and clothes inside. Hopefully, he'll be able to get back to it. It does have all his stuff for staying overnight at Stark Tower.

"Let him go!" Peter hears a foreign language teacher yell as he steps out of the bathroom door. Peter runs over to the scene to find a man holding Coach Ranskin by the neck, with not a trace of sand left. Wait, where did the sand go? It doesn't just grow legs and disappear. ...Unless this is the sand from Oscorp. The sand did move to cover the coach's mouth. Who's to say it couldn't crawl away. There are also a few teachers standing around, too afraid to do anything. Good thing Spiderman is here.

Peter doesn't say a word as he sends a web at the man's arm, and yanks it off of Coach Ranskin, letting the coach fall flat on his butt, coughing and gasping for air.

"Spiderman!" the new dude seethes as if he'd been expecting him, catching sight of the wall-crawling hero. Okay... that's a little creepy.

"You know, I don't think Coach here's gonna let you play after that. I'd deem it unsportsmanlike conduct," Peter replies, effectively moving this dude's anger towards him, not the coach. "I'd give you a red flag at least," Peter continues, getting ready for a fight to break out between them.

"You don't understand. This man deserves what I'm giving to him," the man says while Ranskin rubs his neck on the floor. "He used to be my coach. Told me I'm worthless, a freak, a bastard. Well, he should've looked in the mirror. Guess I'm 'making a mark on the world' now, aren't I, Coach. Now that I've got a new team of baddies to run with." The man looks down at Ranskin before locking a death-filled glare on Peter. "And you stopped me. You're gonna pay big time for that," he shouts as Peter's spidey sense goes off.

Peter watches as the man runs towards him, getting ready to strike. Peter dodges the poorly planned punch and retaliates with his own. But Peter's first doesn't come in contact with an abdomen. Instead, it goes right through a torso made of sand. Pulling his hand back, Peter looks at his hand and then the man in shock, giving his enemy a perfect shot at his face. Peter's knocked down by a much larger hand made of packed sand, sprawling a few feet down the hallway. Man, why do these floors have to be so slippery? He'd swear the custodians only clean the floors once a year.

Groaning, Peter quickly gets up. Alright, He's got to think about this differently. If he can't land a punch without surprise, what's Peter going to do? How do you fight sand? Would his webs even be effective?

"Wow, dude! That's so cool! You turn into sand! Are you the sand from that Oscorp break-in?"

"AARGH!" Sandman shouts at Peter, charging at him. Guess he'll take that as a yes. Listening to his spidey sense, Peter jumps to the side at the last minute and sprays webbing on the man's arms, forcing them to his sides.

"I never remember sand at the beach being this aggressive. It must just be your personality. Or maybe it's all coming from your striped shirt," Peter says before his jaw drops to the floor. Sandy-Swimtrunks turned his entire body into sand, absorbing the webbing before turning around to face Peter. "Uhhhhhh... maybe you guys should get out of here. It's not all that safe," Peter tells the nearby teachers as he jumps to the ceiling. Peter crawls away from them, occasionally checking that Quick Sand (oh, that's an awful name, go back to the swimwear) is following him. What's he going to do now that his webs are useless?

"So what made you into a beach, man?" Peter asks behind him, desperately trying to keep the villain with him. "Are you sentient sand or like some alien that lives in the sand trying to take human form?" Peter feels projectile sand strike his back and forces himself to crawl and think faster. "Alright, what's your name? We should introduce ourselves. I'm Spiderman, but you already know that. Which I'm honored by. Not a lot of people actually know who I am. You'd think they'd remember a bright red and blue suit swinging across New York."

"Oh, I've heard a lot about you, Spiderman. My friends know more than you think." Ok. That's creepy. "The name's Flint Marko. But you'll call me Sandman."

"Hey! Wait. You can't do that! You can't give yourself a villain name! Doesn't anyone understand that I'm supposed to name the bad guys I face? But nooooo, you guys just have to go and name yourselves." Peter sees a Chemistry room ahead of him. Maybe it'll have some chemical he could use on sand? No... a bunsen burner? No. He'd have to get a SUPER hot flame to make it into glass. Like 1700*C hot. So that's useless. Peter sees a math room (great, bore Marko to surrender). Another math room, the janitor's closet, a bathroom... Wait a hot second. Janitor's closet? How about a vacuum? Peter continues towards the closet until his Spidey sense goes off.

Peter feels himself get pulled off the ceiling by a large sandy hand. Wait, Sandman was pretty far away, can he freaking shapeshift?

"Dude, just because I have Spider in my name," Peter chastises as he avoids Sandman's punches, "does not mean that you should actually swat me off the ceiling. Not cool." Peter tries once more to use the element of surprise, going for a few punches at Sandman. The first two on the man's face hit their mark, but the rest hit only sand. Darn. He just has to keep Sandman in sand form for the vacuum to suck him up.

Peter shoots webs at Sandman, not stopping for a second, seeing how the webbing is absorbed behind the outer layer of sand. He even sticks Marko to the floor, wall, and ceiling, just to keep him from returning to human form. While still firing webbing at the sand, Peter rips open the janitor's door, quickly locating the vacuum (still plugged in, thank the Lord) and turns it on. At least one thing in Peter's day is going right.

Peter aims the vacuum at Marko, effectively sucking the man as sand into his weapon of choice. Marko's shouts were drowned out by the noise of the vacuum. Just great, Thor has lighting, Black Widow has guns, Captain America has his vibranium shield, Ironman has a multimillion-dollar suit, and Peter has a freaking vacuum to battle his enemies.

Peter turns off the vacuum and watches as the pouch continues to move on its own, Marko futility trying to escape the bag. Looking up, Peter sees a few teachers staring at him. Oh no, are they going to be mad that he used the school's property without permission? Because someone always has some bone to pick with him.

"Thank you, Spiderman," Coach Ranskin says while rubbing his lightly bruised neck. Wait, what? Did he just say thank you?

"Thank you so very much," Peter's freshman English teacher says as she walks up to him to give him a hug and a chaste kiss on the cheek. What the heck? Peter doesn't know what to do. So he freezes. Praise? From the people he saved? From people who aren't overly fond of Peter Parker? No. This doesn't happen to him. Maybe for the Avengers, but never for Spiderman. Peter gets Triple J shouting on the daily news about him.

Peter's spared the pain of formulating a response by his spidey sense going off to reveal two cops coming through the stairwell doors.

"Oh great! Just the guys I wanted to see! You see, I've got the culprit stuck in his sand-state in this vacuum, here. His name is Flint Marko, came for revenge on Coach here. And he turns into sand. It's why he named himself Sandman. Stupid name if you ask me, but, uh, so here you go," Peter hands them the vacuum. "And I think you've got a few witnesses here for your detectives, so... I'll just be off." Peter slings a web to bring him to the ceiling before giving an upside-down salute and crawling away (since it was a bit quicker than running on such slippery floors).

Wow. The cops didn't try and shoot him, that's a first. They didn't even follow him (Peter checked constantly). Peter congratulates himself the entire time he grabs his bag to change and slip out of the school through a back door devoid of any cops. And straight into the rain. Freaking fantastic. But, Peter supposes, it'll wash off any residual sand. He definitely doesn't want any remainders of Flint Marko hanging around him. One encounter was enough.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a long one

Peter runs into the lobby of Stark Towers dripping wet, trying to escape the storm. Just great. This is definitely the way to seem cool to your heroes. Look like something the cat dragged in and soak their floors. Clearly, his finest hour.

"Peter! Wow, it must be down pouring out there," Suanne exclaims upon seeing him from behind her computer.

"Yea. Like cats and dogs," Peter sheepishly admits as he rubs the back of his neck, trying to ignore the fact that his clothing is suctioned to him from the rain. And that his hair is laid flat on his forehead. Real impressive.

"Well, Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner are waiting for you in the communal kitchen. You can take the elevator up," she tells him with a friendly smile, gesturing to the elevator. Suanne's awesome for not getting angry over his wetness and lateness. She's so much better than half his teachers.

"Thanks, Suanne!" Peter shouts back, trying to ignore the painful squeaking of his sneakers on the tile floor. Hopefully, there isn't a puddle left from where Peter was standing, but he's too afraid to look back and check.

"Mr. Parker, welcome back," Tony's A.I. greets him as he steps into the elevator positively soaked.

"Uh, thanks JARVIS." JARVIS is pretty cool in Peter's opinion. Who wouldn't love their own artificial intelligence? And Lord knows Peter began one that may or may not have failed completely and miserably. But that's beside the point. No need to bring that back from its grave.

"Uh, JARVIS? Are the others in the kitchen too?" Peter asks, hoping that he'll get an answer as the elevator speeds up.

"The captain is in the gymnasium along with Ms. Romanoff and Mr. Wilson. Mr. Barton and Thor are currently in the main lounge." JARVIS says in his no-nonsense way. Or maybe that's just JARVIS's normal tone of voice. But Peter could swear that he's heard some emotion out of the AI before.

"Thanks, JARVIS," Peter says, slightly grateful that he'll only be dealing with two Avengers for right now. Stay calm, Peter. Act cool. Don't act like you've just come from fighting a man who can turn into sand by sheer force of will. Stay calm. And don't act like you're depressed from Flash the other day. That's got to stop. Act like a normal person. Which you totally aren't because you're Spiderman, but you get the point.

"Peter. Glad you came," Mr. Stark greets as the elevator doors ding open to reveal the kitchen in all its glory.

"Hi, Peter. How are you?" Dr. Banner asks as Peter approaches them, his grip on his bags just a little tighter. Keep it together, Parker.

"Uh - I'm good. How are you guys?" Peter asks, trying to seem relaxed and calm about this whole situation. Gosh, when will he stop fanboying over his idols, now that he knows them? Answer: probably never.

"Drier than you," Mr. Stark points out, looking Peter's outfit over a few times. Peter shifts a little uncomfortably, realizing how ratty his simple jeans, worn white sneakers, and t-shirt that said "I make chemistry jokes periodically" were in comparison to Mr. Stark's expensive clothing.

"It's really raining outside," Peter gives as an obvious explanation. Thank you, Captain Obvious. The massive windows all around Stark Towers wouldn't give that one away. "At least I didn't have to walk home in it. That's an even longer walk," Peter tries to put a positive twist on his predicament. Not that there was much optimism when one's socks were soaked. That's always the worst.

"If it's ever raining, stop by and wait it out here if you'd like. Actually, just stop by whenever you pass the building," Mr. Stark says as he gets up from his seat at the island counter. Wait, was he serious? Just stop by whenever? "How about we show you where you'll sleep for tonight. You can dry off in your room and change into dry clothes. That is, if you've got anything that isn't drenched," Mr. Stark offers, looking down at Peter's extra sling bag holding his pajamas, change of clothes, and toothbrush.

"Uh, this might be okay," Peter lifts the bag to examine and watches pitifully as water drips from a corner upon the sudden movement. Wincing, Peter opens the bag and pulls out a t-shirt that is positively wet. Thankfully not soaked like his current shirt, but still, unwearable. "Or not," Peter drops the t-shirt back into the bag and looks up to see an amused pair of scientists.

"You can borrow a shirt and pair of pants of mine, Peter," Dr. Banner offers with a humored smile. "They'll probably be a little big, but I'm definitely the smallest one out of the Avengers," he explains, but Peter barely hears him. He's being offered Bruce freaking Banner's clothing as if they're close friends? Is this some kind of joke or is Peter just really really blessed? If this is how the universe rewards him for being Spiderman, it's too much.

"I can't take your clothes," Peter says in response, still dumbfounded that an Avenger is offering their clothing to measly little teenage Peter Parker. "Not that there's anything wrong with your clothes. I mean, not that I'd know or anything, I can only guess by what you're wearing. But I can't do this to you when I'm already staying at your place." Wow, Aunt May would've been proud to hear him right then.

"It's really not an issue, Peter. Plus, you do really need another set of clothes. You're soaked to the bone," Dr. Banner says as he again examines Peter's clothes. Clearly, to Dr. Banner, this really is not a big deal. But to Peter, this is huge.

"Plus, you're staying at my place, kid. No need to worry about eating us out of house and home. Or whatever the saying is," Mr. Stark says, looking ahead at the elevator doors, and not at Peter. Peter's only allowed a moment of puzzlement as the doors open to the most expensively lavish room Peter's ever seen. There's an entire sitting area, complete with a couch, a television, and multiple tablets thrown all over the place.

"Woah," Peter says, completely awestruck at how large the floor is as he's lead to a door down the corridor by Mr. Stark. Peter sees Mr. Stark smirk once they stop in front of another door.

Peter swears his jaw almost hit the ground when he saw the door open up to the largest bedroom he's ever seen. Seriously, it could've fit his room, Aunt May's room, their bathroom, the kitchen... well, their whole apartment easily. And the furnishings - don't even get him started.

"What do you think?" Mr. Stark asks, clearly pleased with himself and Peter's amazed response.

"What do I think? It's larger than my entire apartment!" Peter laughs unbelievably. And the bed - woah- the bed is no twin bed like at home. The bed here is practically king size.

"Well, this is where you'll be staying. It's on my floor. That way if anything happens, I'll be nearby." Mr. Stark's expression minutely changes, but it's enough for Peter to catch. "I don't sleep a lot, like at all. So feel free to get me if you need something. I'll try and be on the same floor at night with you if I can help it." If Peter was surprised by the room, he was astounded by Mr. Stark's words. Is he doing all of this for him? For Peter Parker? No. Way.

"Thank you. Really, Mr. Stark," Peter looks at the billionaire, unsure of what he should say or do to really show his appreciation. "My Aunt May and Unc-" Peter catches himself. Uncle Ben would have loved this. He can't now. It's only Aunt May left. "Aunt May would love this. She loves looking at those huge houses online. Speaking of her, I should probably give her a call," Peter rambles a little bit, trying to force his slip up to go away where Mr. Stark can't comment on it.

"Here, Peter," Dr. Banner walks up to the two of them and holds out his clothing for Peter to take. Wow. Peter didn't even realize that Dr. Banner had left. Had he not come out of the elevator with them? Hey, he was preoccupied with this amazing floor and bedroom. You can't blame him.

"Thank you, really, Dr. Banner," Peter thanks him, taking the clothing. Oh, he just has to tell Harry and Gwen about this. Borrowing clothes from his idols? Way too awesome.

"It's not at all a problem, Peter. After all, you can't be dripping wet in the lab," Dr. Banner brushes off his kindness and chalks it up to logic. Hey, Peter's still grateful, no matter the reason. "I'm not too sure about the shirt though, so try it on and let me know. If it doesn't fit, we can always ask Natasha." Natasha?

"Natasha?" Peter questions as he takes the shirt and pants from the scientist.

"That's the big scary Black Widow. Her real name's Natasha. Well, that's at least what she tells us her real name is," Mr. Stark says with a smirk. If he was trying to subtly scare Peter... it worked. He's definitely cautious of the elder Spider in New York; she made his spidey sense tingle by just being in the same room. If she didn't save New York and wasn't a part of the Avengers, Peter would've made sure he was at least five blocks away from her at any given time. Instead, two blocks seem like a safe distance.

"Well, I'll meet you guys in the lab," Mr. Stark says, leaving his own floor with Peter alone with Dr. Banner as if it were completely normal.

"Are you going to try on the shirt?" Dr. Banner suddenly asks Peter. Coming out of his thoughts, Peter looks startled when he snaps his head up to look at him.

"Oh, right," Peter says, still a little surprised at this entire situation. Peter has to walk a bit to get to the bed to place down the new shirt (what is it with this ginormous room?) to take off his drenched piece of embarrassment. With his back to Dr. Banner, Peter slips off his old shirt (goodbye science pun) and tosses it to the floor.

"What do you think?" Peter asks as he turns around to face Dr. Banner in his baggy plain blue t-shirt. But it should do. It's much drier after all.

But Dr. Banner doesn't respond. He's just standing there as if he's seen a ghost if the paleness of his face and wideness of eyes meant anything.

"Uh, Dr. Banner?" Peter asks. "Are you okay?" Well, this is weird. Is Dr. Banner alright? He's not dying or anything here. Oh no, he's not turning into the Hulk, is he? What should Peter do if he is? He can't suddenly become Spiderman, but he'd rather not die-

"Fine. I'm fine, sorry, there, Peter," he says, shaking his head and exiting the room, refusing to look Peter in the eyes. Okaaaaayy... Maybe Peter should give him a minute? You know what, he should probably call Aunt May anyway. And maybe Gwen. Yea, he'll call Gwen for sure. Then he'll meet up with the scientists in the lab. Man, does his life get any cooler?  
\----------------------------------------------------------

"This is really good, Cap," Peter says, gesturing to the pasta dish in front of him.

"Thank you. It's a recipe from my mother. She made a mean array of pastas when she was alive," Cap says with a smile, probably from both the compliment and the memory.

"Say, Peter, your mom got any good recipes?" Falcon (or Sam) asks as he works on his plate. Peter instantly freezes in place. He looks up from his food to see a similarly stiff Cap, Mr. Stark, and Dr. Banner who noticed Sam's mistake. It warms Peter's heart that they care so much about his feelings, but he barely remembers his parents. Why would he be so upset over it? Flash made it quite clear the other day that he should just get over all of their deaths. But it's definitely easier said than done.

"Uh, I actually wouldn't know." Now's as good a time as any to tell them what happened to his parents. You know, before they get all nosey. "I don't have any recipes from my parents. They left me with my aunt and uncle when I was six," Peter says, studiously examining his pasta rather than the shocked faces of his heroes.

"Oh, dude, I'm so sorry. I didn't know -" Sam apologizes before he's cut off by Peter.

"No. No. It's fine. You wouldn't've known. Honestly, it's fine," Peter tries to put the hero at ease, looking up at the man's eyes for a quick moment before returning his gaze to the pasta. "I don't remember them too much anyway. No need to be sorry," Peter amends, hoping it's enough to stop their pitying looks.

"Do you know what your parents did for a living, Peter?" Hawkeye - err, Mr. Barton - Clint? - asks. Peter looks up at him in confusion. People tend to just drop the subject when Peter mentions them. But instead, Clint looks very focused as if he were trying to figure out a puzzle. Maybe it's because he's a spy? Is that a normal face setting for him?

"Uh, they were scientists. I think. Well, at least my dad was. He worked with Dr. Connors at one point at Oscorp. They were good friends. But it's not like I remember a lot about them. I know they worked for the government too. My mom always did, and then my Dad went from Oscorp to the government. I don't really know why they left me with Aunt May and Uncle Ben though. Uh, Uncle Ben told me it was a plane crash. That's - that's how they died," Peter says, clearly subdued, trying not to think about what Flash said. He really shouldn't be letting it get to him this much, but he just can't help it. What Flash said seems true. Maybe they did leave because of him. Maybe he did something? Or maybe they preferred their new government jobs, so they left Peter.

"Sorry, kid," Clint says, his face becoming sympathetic and sorry. "So how about your Aunt and Uncle? They got any good recipes?" he asks, going back to eating the pasta; clearly, his puzzle has been dropped.

"Yea, my aunt's lasagna and cream puffs for sure. They're awesome," Peter says, avoiding the question that would come about Uncle Ben if he mentioned he had passed away. It still hurt him to talk about. And, didn't Peter already share enough personal info? It's not like they've shared a lot with him. Although they're all famous, so he knows what the general public knows.

"We had it. The lasagna's to die for," Mr. Stark tells the table.

"I can second that," Dr. Banner says, voicing his opinion into the conversation.

"Are those cream puffs a dessert here on Midgard?" Thor asks, taking a breath from his pasta.

"Yep. They're a pastry injected with a cream filling. They're like this big. Bite-size," Mr. Stark shows the sizing on his fingers. Thank goodness Mr. Stark is helping Peter steer the conversation away from his parents. And he probably already knows about Uncle Ben, the man is a genius after all; he probably looked Peter up online with all his fancy tech. And then probably showed Dr. Banner. Ugh.

"They sound divine. I will need to try one someday," Thor says, clearly imagining the taste of a cream puff if his facial expression was any clue.

"So, Peter, what are your favorite classes in school?" the Black Widow asks (can he think of her as Nat? Is that weird?), trying to make light conversation after what was a little too heavy of a topic.

"I love all sciences. But I'm in Chemistry this year. Next year I'll be in Bio. And I already took physics. But I also love my computer programming classes," Peter stops himself from rambling on. They probably don't want to hear about his classes too much.

"I was never good at science," Cap admits from next to Peter. "I tried, but I was always better at art and english." Peter knows, he'd seen pictures of Cap's sketchbook in his textbook. Okay, that may be a little weird, but it's not his fault they're going to start learning about WWII in Modern American History. Hey, maybe he can learn some of it from Cap! But, it's not years ago for him, he just came out of it, so it's probably insensitive to ask. Maybe he can just mention it very slyly...

"I like art too. I'm okay at it," Peter tells him, not trying to toot his own horn. "But I am definitely musically challenged. I can't sing for the life of me," Peter laughs at his own weakness.

"Well, besides music, you sound like you can do everything," Dr. Banner says, cheerfully looking at Peter.

"No, not really. I'm awful in gym class," Peter tells him. Which is kind of true. He used to stink at it until he got his powers. And then he had to force himself to continually stink at it. If anything stunk, that sure did.

"Well, you can't be good at everything," Clint says. "Unless you're Nat here," Clint announces, to which he receives a slap to the head.

"You don't have to tell everyone my abilities," she says, murder painted on her face.

"Hey, it's just Peter. He's cool. Right, Pete?" Clint looks towards the teen for backup.

"Uh - yes? I won't tell anyone," Peter says, hoping that's what he was supposed to say. It may have been close enough since Nat goes from bloody murder to just boiling rage. That's better in Peter's book anyway. "I promise, just don't hurt me," Peter laughs. "I already got enough of that from Flash," he says jokingly, not realizing his mistake before it's too late. Shit, the Avengers don't know about Flash. Shit. He's talking to the Avengers, not Harry and Gwen.

"Who's Flash?" Mr. Stark asks. Crap crap crap crap.

"Uh - no one," Peter cringes at his own feeble answer, but doesn't back down.

"Is he the one who got you in detention? The one who beat you up on Friday?" Mr. Stark relentlessly asks, receiving a sigh of despair from Peter. Hiding his face in his hands, Peter groans.

"Wait, you got detention, dude?" Sam asks, surprised that a nerd like Peter got detention. And suddenly everyone seems to forget about their dinner. Fantastic.

"I didn't do anything. The head of the football team - Flash - decided to beat me up in the cafeteria, and since I was in a fight, I got detention. But it's not like I fought back or anything."

"Are you serious? They gave you detention for that? That's so stupid," Sam says. "I hate bullies man. Does this dude always attack you?"

"Not really. It's mostly just insults and pushing and getting stuffed in a locker and getting punched. Nothing I can't handle. I've dealt with it for years. But he didn't always attack me..." Peter trails off, thinking about how much worse Flash has gotten these past few years. Maybe it's just high school getting to him? But at least Peter got some extra powers that make the hits feel more like bug bites. Not that Peter appreciates it either way.

"What's this kid's name? Last name too. And address? And parents' places of work?" Mr. Stark asks, to which Nat kicks him under the table for Cap who's on the other side of Peter.

"Uh, his name is Flash Thompson. That's all I'll say. Well, Flash isn't his real name. It's Eugene, but you'll get beat up if you say it within twelve feet of him," Peter tries to make it sound like a joke. And maybe it would be funny if it hadn't happened to Peter several times.

"I know you don't want to talk to any teachers or to your aunt about it, so I have an idea for you," Cap says, and suddenly Peter feels his spidey sense tingle just so faintly. Oh no, what's Cap going to say? "How about we teach you how to fight? That way you can fend off that kid."

"Yea, kid. Cap, Nat, and I were talking about it. We'd be happy to show you the basics. And actually, I won't take no for an answer," Mr. Stark says, clearly excited at the idea of arming another nerd. Just great. Once Peter starts training with them, they'll realize he's a lot stronger and has his spidey sense and then they'll realize that he's Spiderman because they're not stupid. Or he'll have to seem like an idiot. Lose-lose situation. It'd be better if he was taught how to properly fight if they knew he was Spiderman. Then he'd actually gain something out of this. But he's not telling them his secret. No way.

"N-no. I - I couldn't do that. It's fine, really. I don't need to fight him, I -" Peter gets cut off.

"You live in New York, Peter. You should learn how to fight if not for dealing with a bully," Nat says, looking at him with some amusement. Wait, does she think this is funny? How is this funny?

"Alright," Peter concedes, seeing no way out of this now. It'd probably be more suspicious if he kept refusing. Who wouldn't want to learn how to fight from the Avengers? Well, besides Peter Parker? Slumping back in his chair, Peter takes a deep breath, trying to figure out when his secret will come out.

"Great! We'll give you your first lesson the next time you come around. How's that?" Cap excitedly says. Peter does his best not to groan out loud.

"How was your detention? Write a lot of lines?" Mr. Stark asks, clearly enjoying Peter's slight discomfort on the subject.

"No. Today was sharpening charcoal pencils and cleaning desks. Yesterday was desks and cleaning paint pallets," Peter tells him, matter of factly.

"Did Flash do the same stuff?"

"Well, he only had detention yesterday. He got one day. I got two. He's the star of the football team, he can't miss too many practices," Peter admits, frustrated with his own situation.

"You're kidding," Sam says while Clint says, "shut up."

"It's not really that big of a deal," Peter says. "Plus, I like the art teacher. Nice and easy detention. Well, I like photography better," Peter says, giving himself a way to steer the conversation. "I actually take photos for the Daily Bugle."

"Really? I didn't know you were into photography, Peter," Dr. Banner seems shocked at Peter's admission.

"Yea. It's not like I carry my camera with me all of the time. I gotta be careful with it."

"So what do you take pictures of?" Sam asks. Good, this is what a good conversation looks like.

"I just did a crime scene, but most of the time though, it's Spiderman," Peter says, sitting back up, ready to talk about his photography. Maybe they saw his pictures in the Daily Bugle yesterday? You know, with Jack's article. Man, if that's true he really has to tell Harry and Gwen. Man, he's going to talk their ears off in school tomorrow, isn't he?

"Oh, not this again," Clint moans, clearly unhappy with something Peter said. What? Crime scenes? Spiderman? Please, don't let it be Spiderman. Please don't let them be frustrated with Spiderman. PLEASE.

"Clint, you bring it upon yourself. Spiderman really is a good guy," Mr. Stark tells him. Oh no. It's about Spiderman. Good Lord. Clearly, this is some old argument, right? One Peter wishes they didn't have. Maybe they don't really have this issue and they all just love Spiderman to pieces...

"Sure. Then why does he never show his face? Why does he always run away from the cops?"

"I wear a mask too," Mr. Stark says as if he took the offense personally, leaning closer into his pasta dish. "And the cops are always shooting at him! He's trying to save people, not hurt them!"

"But it's different! You've shown the public who you are underneath your mask. No one has any idea of his age, race, eye color, hair color, nothing. He could be anyone!"

"You of all people, Clint, should understand the importance of a secret identity," Mr. Stark's face is stern and calculating as if he made the shot to the jugular.

"You know what, Stark, why don't we just ask Peter." Wait, who now? Did they just ask for Peter's opinion? "He sees Spiderman in person all of the time."

Both of the superheroes' heads snap to look at Peter, making him jump. What the heck is with his life? Eyes wide, Peter sees the rest of the Avengers turn their gazes on him. Man, is that intimidating.

"Uh, he seems good. To me, at least," Peter says, hoping that they don't actually want to hear what he has to say. But with their expectant looks, Peter knows he has to continue. With a sigh, Peter gathers his thoughts to make a convincing argument. Not everyone likes Spiderman, but maybe he can convince the Avengers that Spiderman really is a good guy. They don't have to love him, just like him. A lot.

"I think he's just trying to help. Since he has his spider powers, he has a responsibility, right? You know, to use them to help people. With great power comes great responsibility. He hasn't ever harmed a civilian, and he doesn't kill. And he did save New York with the whole Lizard incident. And he helped on the sides for the whole Loki incident you guys worked on." Not bad, Parker.

"Well said," Cap smiles at Peter. Huh, must've sounded pretty good. Thanks, Uncle Ben.

"Can't beat a first-hand account, Clint," Mr. Stark taunts, a big smirk painted on his face.

"Yea, yea. But he's still not becoming an Avenger. At least not yet." WHAT?

"What?" Peter can't stop himself from asking, eyes widening once again.

"Well, we were considering recruiting Spiderman to the Avengers team. But we're still hemming and hawing over it. Don't tell anyone," Mr. Stark says as if it were no big deal. THEY WERE CONSIDERING SPIDERMAN FOR THE AVENGERS? WHAT THE HECK?

Deep breaths, Peter. Stay calm. Only a few more hours. Peter closes his eyes in reset. Maybe the rest of the evening will be normal.

"What do you think about the guy's webs, Bruce?" Mr. Stark asks.

UGGGHHHHHHHH.  
\----------------------------------------------------------

"Here, Pete. Wanna see what I'm working on?" Mr. Stark calls, hunched over his desk, working intensely on a project. His head doesn't even move as he calls Peter over. Not wanting to miss an opportunity, Peter walks over to the genius, eager to see the project, but trying to hide some of his excitement.

"This here is the boot for my suit," he says, not bothering to acknowledge that he's about to divulge important and somewhat classified information to a teenager. But hey, Peter is a super teenager. "But it's not working right. The thrusters aren't working as powerfully. You see..."

Peter tries to keep up with Mr. Stark's words. He knows computers and technology, but Mr. Stark may as well not be speaking English. Most likely it's because all of Mr. Stark's stuff is basically from the future. So Peter gives up. He listens, but the genius's explanation goes in one ear and right out the other. So he looks at the boot - which is really one fine piece of machinery - and... hold on...

"Mr. Stark?" Peter interrupts the genius, not realizing that he did so. Without looking at the genius, Peter extends his arm, pointing at one of the circuits inside the suit. "This is an inefficient setup. If you reroute it so that this yellow wire extends to the black, then these red, blue, and orange ones become useless," Peter says, very confident in his answer. Why wouldn't he be? "And it looks like you're using a molten metal as a cooling system, but with nuclear reactors, molten salt solutions would work much better. Even though this is an arc reactor energy," Peter adds on, seeing the small cylinder in the suit.

It's only when Peter hears no response that he tears his eyes off the beautiful technology. He looks next to him to find a wide-eyed, open mouthed Mr. Stark. He looks absolutely surprised. Uhhhhhh. Flicking his gaze to Dr. Banner, Peter sees the genius with dropped shoulders, raised eyebrows, and just as wide eyes. Did... did he just impress two of the nation's top geniuses on something science related?

"Damn," Mr. Stark breathes, before rolling his chair closer to the desk, resuming his old position and accidentally bumping Peter out. Peter manages to stay on his feet, a little stunned, but hey, not embarrassed on the floor. That's gotta be a win.

"Wow, Peter. You're a lot smarter than you let on," Dr. Banner comments, a smile on his face and a hand running through his hair.

"Err - thanks?"

"Well, he's gonna be like this for a while, Peter. Not much we can do," Dr. Banner admits. Peter and the doctor quickly move out of Mr. Stark's rolling chair's way as he seems to no longer notice them, now that a new idea has gripped his brain. "Actually, it's probably dangerous to be in the same room as him right now. Why don't you head on up? Sam and Clint are in the living room playing video games. I'll meet you there once I 'Tony-proof' the lab." Probably a good idea, since Mr. Stark has already tripped on numerous things as he tried to fetch some supplies and tools.

"Okay," Peter says, hesitant to leave the room since he did give Mr. Stark the idea on how to fix one of his suit's problems. It's kind of awe-inspiring watching Mr. Stark work. His passion for science fueled by his desperate need to experiment and fix things showcased by a mind as brilliant as he is - CRASH. ...Or maybe it wasn't so majestic, seeing Mr. Stark knock off some desk items as he began to work.

Yeah... maybe Peter should go now.

"And Peter -" Dr. Banner calls, making him turn around, eyebrows puzzled. "That was really impressive what you did. Tony may not say it, but he's definitely thinking it. Good job."

With an uncontainable smile, Peter bounds up the stairs several at a time, needing to burn off some excitement.

He gave Tony freaking Stark an idea. On his suit. The suit Tony Stark made. Holy shit.

Arriving in the living room shocks Peter at first. I mean, who wouldn't be? And this time it's not even because of the room itself. No. Instead, Peter arrives to see his idols, heroes larger than life, playing Mario Kart on a Wii U. Are we sure Stark Tower isn't another dimension?

"Peter! Nice to see ya! Wanna play winner?" Clint asks him as if superheroes playing Mario Kart wasn't weird. Okaayyy...

"Uh-" Peter doesn't quite know what to say. Well, he might as well play. He's here, right? "S-sure?" Peter answers as a question, earning him a smile from Clint and a non-threatening look from the Black Widow. Probably the best he'll get from her.

"Great! Come sit here," he says, pointing at the set on the couch next to him. "Just don't walk in front of Sam or Thor. They're hard at work right now," Clint says in all seriousness.

"Ahh! Curse this blasted game! The Son of Odin cannot be beaten as Bowser!" Thor exclaims, standing up and discarding his controller on the couch.

"Take that! Reigning champ wins again," Sam playfully boasts before picking up Thor's controller for Peter. "You ready, kid?"

"Born ready," Peter tries to use his Spiderman confidence and sass. Maybe he can loosen up and enjoy this. His friends lean more towards nerd than geek. It's a shame and a blessing, he supposes. But they never play video games. Actually, Peter hadn't played video games since Uncle Ben's death. Actually, not since his spider bite, so he was definitely unprepared for this game. Was it just him or did every banana peel make his spidey sense the most intense in comparison to shells?

"I won," Peter says, shock written all over his features. It was mostly his spidey sense doing the work, but Peter's not complaining.

"Man, that physically hurts me," Sam exaggerates. "Reigning champ murdered by the noobie kid," Sam thumps his fist over his hear as if it did give him pain.

"Damn, Parker," Clint says in surprise. "You may just be starting on your path to being the greatest gamer at Stark Tower. But you still have yet to face me," Clint smiles and bumps Sam out of the way, snatching the controller. "Up for another game? Best 2 out of 3?"

"You're on," Peter challenges with the largest smile in a long time.  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Alright, ready for movie night?" Natasha asks, turning the Wii U off.

"HEY!" both Peter and Clint exclaim, jumping in their seats at the sudden blackness of the screen.

"Can we do a quick movie tonight?" Mr. Stark asks as he, Dr. Banner, and Cap walk in and take a seat on the couches. "As much as I love movies, I do really need to get back in my lab," Mr. Stark gives Cap a very pointed look. Huh, it's a miracle they dragged him out of there anyway.

"Let us let young Peter decide which film," Thor says to everyone's approval. That's awfully nice of them.

"Uhh, I don't know. I'm fine with whatever," Peter says, not wanting to force a decision on the Avengers. He'd happily watch anything if he was with the Avengers. Well, not anything but you get the point.

"Star Wars or Star Trek?" Mr. Stark asks, leaning in as if it was the most important question in the world. Which, it may just be, in Peter's opinion.

"Both," Peter says. "I like both, but I do have a special spot for Star Trek," Peter smiles sheepishly. Most people prefer Star Wars and get mad at him for it, but hey, he can like them both. Something about the future of the human race, reaching out to the stars and making discoveries is just a little more special to him. But he'd so like a lightsaber.

"I can respect that," Mr. Stark says, sitting back into the couch. "Seen Beyond yet?"

"Uh... I actually haven't seen any of the '09 reboots," Peter winces, having gone through this conversation many a time with friends. Hey, he didn't have the spare money to go to the movies, he does have to save up for college after all. And, then he just never bought the DVDs. If he doesn't think about it, it doesn't hurt his soul too much.

"We'll have to fix that, won't we?" Mr. Stark says with a mischievous smile painted on his face. Showing another Star Trek lover the alternate original series? Priceless. "JARVIS, play the 2009 Star Trek movie. The first one."

"Of course, sir." Peter whips his head up to the ceiling with Cap and Thor, still not used to the voice of Tony's home AI.

"So wait," Cap says, returning his gaze to Stark to reveal confusion marring his face. "Is this the one with uh - with Han Solo?"

A chorus of groans ring across the room.

"That's Star Wars, Cap. This is Star Trek. Captain Kirk and Commander Spock with the United Federation of Planets," Clint says, trying to control his frustration at such a mistake.

"Don't worry, Steve. You'll eventually get it," Natasha says as if she were speaking from experience. Another unfitting jigsaw piece to the assassin's puzzle.

"Shh! Quiet down!" Mr. Stark chastises the group, already engrossed in the television with a nerd's delight. Figures.  
\---------------------------------------------------------

It's after Star Trek Into Darkness that Peter calls it quits and heads to his room. Hey, he does have school tomorrow. He wishes he could stay up all night and watch every movie possible with his idols, hearing their jokes and comments and shushes. But, you know, life of a high schooler. And a part-time superhero.

Wait. Should he be going on patrol tonight? Peter did plan for heading out, his spidey suit is in his bag and all. And he can see how to open the windows that make up almost the entire wall of his room. But wouldn't Mr. Stark hear him leaving? Well, Aunt May doesn't, but Mr. Stark has a smart house. Wouldn't JARVIS record Peter's escape? Would he then tell the Avengers? Or would he only recognize an opened window?

Shit. It's a lose-lose situation. Lose his secret identity or watch helplessly as people lose their lives or get hurt. And last time he skipped out, Oscorp got robbed by the least friendly doctors in New York. Ugh... what does he DO?

Maybe he should just stay in Stark Tower. He'll be of no use in the future if his secret's busted. Then he'd merely be a lab rat and weapon of sorts. Great. But, really, Peter knows it was a selfish decision. With great power comes great responsibility. Well, Uncle Ben isn't here.

With a lump in his throat, Peter eventually manages to fall asleep in the stiff sheets and extra fluffy mattress of Stark Towers. Man, is he actually missing his lousy bed at home? To this?

Peter can't breathe. He can't see. And he can barely think.

Peter can't breathe, and that's what causes him to start panicking. Honestly, who wouldn't in their right mind? It's only when he feels completely suffocated does his vision return. Wait, that's not how it's supposed to work, right?

Peter's trapped in black goo. In a whole vat of it. The stickiest and most sentient he'd ever seen. He looks to his right to see Doc Oc and the Lizard standing there, out of the goo. Wait, they're controlling the goo? How?

"Ssspiderman," the Lizard speaks. "We've been waiting a very long time for this."

Peter's overcome with a sense of fear and his spidey sense rings off the hook, but as if it were underwater. Peter starts thrashing, trying to move at all in the goo. But like a quicksand, his movements only make him sink quicker. Searching his surroundings, Peter finds Electro and is that - Sandman? And wait, HARRY? No - it's Mr. Osborn? What the heck?

As Peter's eyes get covered in the goo, he feels himself lifted from the goo as if it were no more than butter. But Peter isn't relieved. Doc Oc holds all of Peter's limbs out, pinned to the wall. The Lizard comes and slashes all of Peter's torso, letting his mutated blood run freely into the gross black goo as Peter cries out in pain.

Screaming, Peter feels his mask get pulled off his face.

"Puny Peter Parker," the Lizard says, letting chills go up and down Peter's spine. But then his grotesque face changes to... Flash?

"It's your own damn fault they died. So suck. It. UP!" he screams in his face, letting Peter drop to the floor before vanishing.

Confused, Peter checks his surroundings. All around him and above him seem fine until - oh God - no...

"Uncle Ben," Peter breathes, seeing the blood pouring out of the man's bullet wound.

"You did this to me, Peter. You killed me. You failed. I hate you," he tells him, gripping Peter's forearms as he slowly lowers himself to the ground, his last breath coming.

"I wish - I wish you never - never came to us," Uncle Ben says, his eyes losing their light as his grip gives out completely.

Peter's at a loss for words. All he can do is stare at his uncle's lifeless body, clinging to his arms as if he were only asleep. But he makes no move to call for help. No move to check for pulse. He even moved his hands off of the wound, losing the pressure. So all Peter does is cry. His face is stained with tears and his hands are stained in red.

Peter shoots up from the bed, gasping for air, and eyes furiously leaking tears. Wait, in bed? Oh wow, that was all just a dream? Thank God.

Taking many more deep breaths to calm down, Peter grounds himself in the here and now. Uncle Ben never said that. Peter shakes his head and furiously scrubs his face as if it'd rid the nightmare from his memory.

Well, he can say he tried to go to sleep, but clearly it was simply not meant to be. There's no point in trying to sleep now. Peter may as well get up. Maybe he could go to the kitchen and make up for what he couldn't eat at dinner without being suspicious. He couldn't eat three helpings without someone giving him a look. Most likely would've been Black Widow. Or Dr. Banner.

Peter throws aside the sheets (now soaked with sweat, sorry Mr. Stark) and stealthily makes his way to the door. Peeking his head out, Peter checks the hallway for any signs of Mr. Stark. He said he'd be up, and maybe Peter should get permission?

Except that Mr. Stark's lights are out in his room and Peter doesn't want to wake him. So the kitchen it is.

Peter makes his way to the communal kitchen without making a single sound (guess he used his powers tonight after all). Nice. Now all he needs is to maybe make some of Dr. Banner's decaf tea. Or maybe just water; he did already take the scientist's clothes.

Peter blames the tap for being the only noise of his journey when his spidey sense goes off: someone's entering the kitchen. Well, rather than hide on the ceiling or under a table like Peter originally wanted to do, he decides to just let himself be found. It's not like he's committed a crime by waking up and getting water. Well, he was going to steal some food - but that's not the point.

"Hello?" Peter hears a groggy male voice call into the dark room lit by only the New York lights coming through the massive windows.


	14. Chapter 14

"Hello?" Peter hears the groggy voice of the one and only Tony Stark call into the dark kitchen, illuminated only by the New York lights shining through the massive windows.

"Mr. Stark?" Peter calls back. He may as well make himself known. It'd be suspicious not to. But Peter suddenly wishes he hadn't when Mr. Stark turns on the lights - practically burning his advanced eyes. With a noise of protest, Mr. Stark dims the lights, allowing Peter to better adjust to the fluorescence, even though his eyes now burn. Sometimes his spidey powers aren't so cool.

"Thought I heard you walking past. What are you doing up, Peter?" Mr. Stark asks before taking a seat at the counter right next to Peter.

"I could ask you the same," Peter sassily replies. Man, maybe it's less of Spiderman being sassy and more of a tired Peter Parker at night. But who knows?

"Touche," Mr. Stark lightly laughs before continuing. "Couldn't sleep. Never really can. So I was working on my tablet and I thought I heard footsteps. Turns out I was right," he gestures at Peter.

"JARVIS doesn't alert you about where everyone is?" Peter asks. He figured JARVIS just notified Mr. Stark of everything.

"Not unless I ask him where everyone is. But I figured everyone liked their privacy. It's more for safety."

"Oh," that's a surprise. "So what does JARVIS do?"

"Not much with the tower. He's most helpful as a secretary and lab hand," Mr. Stark says, using his hand to rub his chin as if he was thinking. After a pause, he continues, "So why are you up, kid? You've got school tomorrow."

"Drink of water," Peter lies, holding up his glass and taking a gulp of it. He hopes that he didn't hesitate in his answer. And he hopes even more that it's convincing enough for Mr. Stark.

"Sure. So that's why you seem so distressed, right?" Mr. Stark says with a sympathetic smirk, leaning back in his chair.

Busted.

"Uh, n-no. W-why would I be distressed? I mean - I'm not distressed. I'm just drinking water," Peter argues, clinging to his lie like a drowning man on a life preserver. Looking up at Mr. Stark, Peter tries to hide his shock when he sees Mr. Stark's face. Full of determination and success of someone who can see through lies like glass. Damn it. With the genius's eyebrow raised up, saying, "I know exactly what happened, don't lie to me," Peter can't not answer.

"I - I had a bad dream. That's all," Peter says after a deep breath, averting his gaze from the genius, and studying his glass of water instead. Because it's so very interesting. That's why. For sure. Mhmm.

"You wanna talk about it?" Mr. Stark asks, making Peter look up in surprise, his mouth actually opening in shock. He'd never guess Mr. Stark would be openly nice like this. But even with the offer, Peter can't bring himself to just moan about his dream to one of the smartest people on the face of the earth. Not to mention the guy is a superhero. So Peter lowers his gaze and brings it back to his glass of water. Half full and now devoid of ice. Peter can feel the cold on his fingertips almost as much as he can still feel the blood on his hands. Because that's what bothered him most, not the incident with Doc Oc and Doc Connors in his dream.

It's just stupid, right? He shouldn't be so upset over Uncle Ben's death. (Funny how that rattled him more than his own drowning in his dream.) It happened a few months ago. And it's not like he doesn't have Aunt May. And he has Harry and Gwen. Not that he talks about what happened to any of them. Peter really only talked to the policeman and Aunt May that first night, and never spoke two words of it again if he could help it. It was never because he was embarrassed by what he did (though Lord knows he's ashamed). No. It was always because he never wanted to relive Uncle Ben's last moment in his head. His last breath, his last words, his last gaze, and his last sight.

"I-" Peter starts, surprising Mr. Stark by saying something. He just didn't want to leave the billionaire hanging. "I was watching it happen all over again." Deep breaths, Peter. Don't freak out in front of Tony Stark. Peter takes a moment, but Mr. Stark doesn't interrupt the long silence.

"I was watching my Uncle Ben ... watching my Uncle Ben get shot again," Peter says, a heavy weight settling into the familiar dents on his heart. "It uh happened just a few months ago. But you probably already knew along with my blood type and GPA," Peter says, his voice getting lower, his body almost forcing himself to stop talking about it despite his weak joke. He looks down at his hands lying limp in his lap. He really can't bear to look at Mr. Stark right now.

God, why was he so stupid?! Talk to Tony Stark about his little problems! The man is constantly trying to save the world! He even runs one of the top companies in the world, for goodness sakes. He can't be bothering him with this shit. Not to mention the hardships he's already been through before Peter was even born. Why dig some of those up now? No. Peter should just get over it. Swallow down his pity and sadness left over from Uncle Ben's passing and move on. Flash was right. It is stupid. Heck, Peter should forget his parents by now too, not thinking of them at least once a week if not more. Damn it, Parker why are you so stu-

"Peter?" Mr. Stark asks, abruptly pulling Peter out of his thoughts. Peter jumps as Mr. Stark's hand lands on his shoulder, the contact being very unexpected, but not unwelcome.

"Huh?" Eloquent, Parker. Eloquent.

"You alright?" Mr. Stark asks, his eyebrows furrowed in concern as he seems to stare too far into Peter's eyes, assessing what happened. So Peter shakes his head to stop the genius and his own thoughts from spiraling further.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Peter horribly assures Mr. Stark. And he knows that it sounded feeble even to his own ears. But suddenly that once strong will to stick with his lies fizzles out.

"You know, I used to tell people that too," Mr. Stark starts, averting his own gaze as if the next few words would be painful to say. "When my parents were killed, I used to say I was fine. To the press, to my classmates, to family friends, even to Jarvis." Mr. Stark's gaze falls on the skyline of New York, staring miles away. Probably into New Jersey. "But it was never true. I think I said it more to convince myself, you know? That saying it enough times would make it true. Never really did."

"Then my Aunt Peggy sat me down," Mr. Stark starts, a tiny smile forming on his face. "She saw right through my bullshit. Called me out on it, too. And, uh, well, she made me talk it out. She had me say anything, hit anything, scream anything, and it helped. A lot, actually. I don't think I'd've ever gotten over it without her." Mr. Stark tears his gaze away as if he was actually seeing the described moment through the window rather than the city. He focuses his gaze on Peter, a little softer than usual, and a little kinder.

"So I'm gonna do the same thing for you, Peter. I think you've gotta get it all out. It's festering up there." Peter's eyes follow as Mr. Stark points to Peter's head. "You said it's been a few months. It's probably time to open up about it. Not that you have to tell me. Choose who you want, but don't think I don't want to hear what you have to say," Mr. Stark says, making up for Peter's usual cheerful babble.

Peter nods in appreciation before making up his mind.

"He uh- he was trying to stop a thief," Peter swallows, trying to convince himself to just tell Mr. Stark. "And I had seen the guy and didn't stop him. And then Uncle Ben saw him and tried but he was shot. Oh God, he was shot and I heard so I ran - I ran to him and there was so much blood everywhere." Peter drops his head, burying his face into his hands. Why did he think he should tell Mr. Stark this? What's Mr. Stark going to think of him now? Not stopping a criminal when he could've? When he should've? Well, he's rectified that now, but it's still no excuse. And besides, Mr. Stark doesn't know that he's Spiderman.

With a whimper that Peter would definitely refuse later, Peter admits,"And then he d-died. I killed him."

Peter feels the hand on his shoulder start rubbing his back to comfort him.

"You didn't kill him, Peter. Never ever think that. It was the criminal who murdered him."

"But I could've stopped the guy," Peter whips his head up, tears brimming his eyes, and anger rising to the surface.

"Maybe. But it wasn't your job. I know it was your uncle who died, but he sounds a whole lot more like your dad," Mr. Stark says, taking a tiny moment to gather his next thoughts. Probably doesn't do a whole lot of comforting teenage kids about their dead relative. "Right now it'll hurt. A lot, actually. But you gotta give it time. Give it time and live how you'd think would make him proud. That's the best way to honor his death." Mr. Stark definitely seems like he's speaking from experience.

"And you've got your Aunt May," he continues. "And you've got all of us here. We like you. Heck, I think Clint's really taken to you. And he's not too easy to bond with. And I know Cap sees you like a miniature him. And Banner and Sam like you a lot too, Peter. You've always got a place here, alright?"

Peter's at a loss for words. He's not quite sure what he's supposed to say to that.

"Thank you," he decides on, a little shocked at the words. Who would guess that Mr. Stark would be comforting him over Uncle Ben's death?

"Don't mention it," Mr. Stark says. "If you have any more nightmares feel free to come find me. I'm usually awake, but always wake me up if I'm not," Mr. Stark smiles at Peter, warming Peter's cold chest.

"Will do," Peter says, staring out at New York's skyline from his seat at the counter. It's kind of weird having this view indoors and not in spandex. But he could totally get used to it.

"I should probably hit the sack," Peter pushes himself out of his seat. "I got school tomorrow anyway." And maybe some superhero work tonight...

"Okay, kid. Sleep well," Mr. Stark says with a strangely proud smile. Or maybe it was sympathy? Peter's not sure, but he remembers Uncle Ben's smile being very similar. And it makes his heart ache just a bit more.

With a wave and the glass of water in his hand, Peter walks to his room. He kind of just needs to leave now.

Maybe that talk was kind of gushy and emotional, but it was probably good. Not to mention, Peter's now got some great info about JARVIS: he doesn't tell Mr. Stark about where everyone is. This means Peter can escape for the night as Spiderman. How sick is that?

Peter walks slowly into his room, but once he shuts the door, rushes around, throwing books out of his backpack to reach the Spidey suit stowed at the very bottom. Perfect. Peter throws it on, enjoying the confidence the mask gives him before planning his escape.

"JARVIS?"

"Yes, Mr. Parker?"

"Am I allowed to open the window? I kind of want some fresh air?" Peter bites his bottom lip, hoping that this'll work. I mean, how do you even fool an AI built by the country's most genius technological mind?

"Of course, Mr. Parker. I will disarm the window lock and alarm." Wait... was it really that easy? Peter walks over to the window and sure enough, he's able to pull it up. Nice. Looking back, Peter surveys his plan. Well, it's basically just a bunch of pillows and sheets and such underneath the sheets to look like a Peter lump. And, of course, his cell phone is there to play a track of him lightly snoring. Just in case. Kind of Ferris Bueller-esk.

Well, here goes nothing.

This has been freakin' awesome. Peter totally needed to swing around New York. And hey, he's helped a few people already too. The icing on the cake.

Peter watches from the roof of a tower as a couple of cop cars speed along the road, sirens blaring and lights flashing. Well, duty calls. Not that he minds. Not at all. This is what Peter loves to do. So Peter shoots a few webs before following the train of cop cars through the streets to his least favorite sight. Doc Oc and Doc Connors. Great.

And oh, would you look at that, they seem to be terrorizing the streets. Awesome. Just what he wants.

"This is NYPD. You are ordered to stand down," Detective Palmer shouts into her megaphone at the scientists gone rogue. As if that would work, but hey, she can say she tried.

But instead of a response, the Lizard simply roars at everyone, hurting Peter's ears just a bit. All of the cops flinch a bit as they attempt to both keep the villains at gunpoint and cover their own ears.

"You know, you two should find some other bonding activity for your evenings. Terrorizing New York is getting a little old, don't you think?" Peter shouts as he lands on the hood of a cop car.

"Ssspiderman. Just the pest we wanted to see," the Lizard smiles. Actually smiles. And it sends shivers down Peter's spine. Did they want to see him? Oh crap, is this some sort of trap? Did they figure he'd come when he saw the cops? Holy shit, what do they want with him? Maybe it's just to pummel him? Or is that way too hopeful of thinking?

"Aww, you guys don't have to wait up for me. I think it's better if you take some couple's bonding time. Or better yet, that couple's therapy."

Peter barely has enough time to respond to his spidey sense, jumping off the hood of the car into a flip, landing only a few feet next to it. Just in time to see Doc Oc's mechanical arm smash through the front window where Peter was. Yikes.

"See! This is why you guys need some therapy," Peter deflects his moment of fear, incurring the further wrath of the doctor duo.

And that's when everything goes to hell.

In the next few minutes, Peter doesn't do much more than simply block and dodge blows, listening to his spidey sense to escape the two. He barely misses being impaled by a robot arm or being gouged by Lizard claws. He'd rather stay in one piece, thank you very much.

And then Peter gets lucky. He sees almost in slow motion, as Doc Connors swipes at him with his claws, but Peter sees his opportunity. During the swipe, Peter grabs Doc Connors's wrist, pulling the Lizard with all his strength over his body, landing him on his back with a satisfying 'thud'. Thank goodness.

Peter turns around the same time his spidey sense goes haywire, seeing Doc Oc, once again, reaching for him.

"What's with you and being Mr. Grabby Grabs?" Peter shouts as he dodges the arm, sending webbing to stick it to the street. Peter shoots more webbing at the incoming hand as his spidey sense warns him of its incoming. But he realizes his mistake as he feels a prick in his back.

Looking behind him, Peter sees the Sandman (what an awful name) holding a syringe into his back. Wait, is he... oh my God, is he taking Peter's blood? Like a sample? Heck no. He shouldn't have been so focused on just Doc Oc.

Without thinking too much, Peter slams down an unsuspecting Marco's arm, loosening his grip on the needle, and shoves his fist into the man's non-sand face. Peter admits that he's a little pleased when he sees some blood coming out of the man's nose. Serves him right.

"Dude, why aren't you still stuck in a vacuum right about now?" Peter asks.

"There are people in high places who value me, Spiderman," he says with a muffled nose that is slowly turning into sand, which Peter can only guess will heal him.

"What? Like Poseidon?," Peter asks until he's distracted by, guess who, Doc Oc and his annoying arm hurtling towards him.

"Dude, I'm starting to get really sick and tired of your arm," Peter announces, sticking the incoming one to Doc Oc's mechanical body. "You could just get my attention politely, like anyone else," Peter says, shooting more webbing at other arms as they come towards him or break their binding of webbing.

Peter stops when he sees Doc Oc look behind Peter. Not to mention the tingle in his spider sense. Uh oh. Peter turns around to see the Lizard and the Sandman and Electro all behind him.

"Have you guys always been that tall? Oof-" Peter gets knocked in the face by Sandman's sand fist, flying into the door of another cop car. Great. Now the cops will really hate him. Two wrecked cars in one day.

"You're coming with us, Spiderman," Sandman says, clearly way too happy in trying to capture Peter.

"Geez, you don't have to sound so excited about it," Peter pushes himself off the asphalt only to get electrocuted in blue lightning. How... shocking.

"Step away from him," Peter hears a voice say. Maybe it was Detective Palmer? No, it was way too masculine to be her. Maybe another officer? Looking up from his kneeled position on the road, Peter can't believe his eyes. Holy freaking cow.

"Or what Captain?" Doc Oc responds to, you guessed it, Captain America. Captain America, like Steve Rogers. What is he doing here?

"Take a good guess, Octopus," Iron Man says. Holy shit the whole gang is here. Why are the Avengers (minus Dr. Banner) here? To help Peter? Peter Parker? Holy shit do they know Spiderman and Peter Parker are one in the same? Or is it because they saw Spiderman was outnumbered? Or maybe this is simply their favorite road and they're very possessive. Yep, that sounds way more likely and more favorable, in Peter's opinion anyway.

"I don't think so, Stark. You see, my little pet here is going to be very useful," Doc Oc says with a smile. Peter hates it when they do that.

"You can't have him," Black Widow says, not hesitating to use her Widow bites, raining fire at the group of villains. Which was great really, until Sandman clamped Peter into a giant sand fist, dragging him away from the group as quickly as he was snagged.

"Is that even following the laws of science?" Peter asks as he tries to struggle out of the grip. "Cause, honestly, I think that's scarier than you. No offense."

But Peter gets a nice bashing into a brick wall in response. Disoriented, Peter tries to spray webbing at Sandman, despite his entire arm being stuck to his side. Both arms. Just great. And wriggling apparently doesn't work either.

"You know, Spiderman, you could make this easier on yourself and stop resisting," Sandman says as he throws a manhole cover down the alleyway.

"What can I say? I never do things the easy way," Peter says with a smile, figuring out just what to do. Well, here goes nothing. Peter aims his web shooters at the ground, webbing hitting the asphalt hard, but staying connected to his shooters. With a large yank and maybe a grunt, Peter pulls himself out of the Sandman's grip, sand grinding against his suit. Rolling out onto the ground, Peter looks up to see a very confused stripped villain with one leg hovering where a manhole cover was. Nice.

"What? You think I wanted to go? I've got a few more sites I wanna see in New York," Peter grins, webbing grabbing Marco's chest as Peter pulls him forward into one colossal punch in the face. Hitting flesh, not sand. This must be his lucky day.

"Can't really take a hit can you, Marco?" Peter sighs as he webs the unconscious man together, propping him up against the brick wall of the alley. Hopefully, the cops'll take care of him. Then again, Peter forgets the extent of his strength from time to time. Not that he's really explored it too far either.

Satisfied with his quick handiwork, Peter looks up to see the Avengers still fighting the rest of Doc Oc's gang. Wait, Peter stopped Sandman, on his own, mind you, before the professionals could defeat their baddies, even though they outnumber them? What? Hold on; don't get cocky, Parker. Just start helping them.

Peter swings into the scene, observing everything, and beginning to get very angry for two reasons. The Avengers are here probably because they believe Spiderman couldn't handle this on their own. Which is clearly untrue. And secondly, he likes the Avengers. He wants to be seen as cool by them. So how dare Doc Oc and his boy band start to fight them.

"What's up, Doc?" Peter says as he flips and lands right behind Doc Connors, who was originally fighting Falcon and Hawkeye. The bird boys.

With a roar, the Lizard attempts to jump on Peter, only to land smack on the concrete where Peter used to be.

"You know, you shouldn't really leap without looking." Peter barely has a second to breathe as the Lizard reaches out, attempting to grab him once more, only to scrape him... and his suit. Goddamnit! Why does this keep happening? Didn't he just fix his darn suit? Petty thieves don't do this to him! Now he'll have to stitch up the back again.

"Dude! You gotta stop messing up my suit! I've only got one of these, you know," Peter huffs, shooting webbing at the Lizard in frustration. Not that it fixes his suit. But it makes him feel better when he gets to close the Lizard's mouth. With a smirk, Peter announces, "I think you sound smarter this way."

"Dude, do all your fights contain this much conversation?" Hawkeye asks behind him, with Falcon still in shock.

"Nah, today's kind of one-sided," Peter shouts back as he leaves the Lizard to the bird heroes' capable hands and onto the next villain. Two down, two to go.

"Hey Cap," Peter says as he comes in off a web, kicking Doc Oc in the head who seemed to be trying to grab Cap with those darn robotic arms, only for them to be last minute deflected by a properly timed shield throw. Landing on the ground on both feet and a hand, Peter can't help but recognize the little part of him not focused on the battle thinking how cool he must've looked in front of Cap.

"Spiderman," Cap acknowledges as he slides his shield back onto his arm. With a nod, they somehow both fall into a great sync. As if this was so natural they'd been doing this forever. Oh, how Peter wishes that were true. Fighting with Captain America against the world's biggest baddies? Sign him up.

Peter almost can't believe his eyes when a minute later they've got Doc Oc on the ground having some technical difficulties that may or may not have to do with the chunk of wires in Peter's fist. Sorry, not sorry.

"Well, you guys are quick," Iron Man says, flying over to them. Peter forces himself to look past Mr. Stark because even though this has to be one of the coolest moments in his life (seeing Iron Man literally hovering in front of him), he wants to make sure Electro is taken care of. And, of course, he is. Thanks to the god of thunder and storm himself. Pssh, Electro's such a wannabe.

Peter's spidey sense goes off, forcing him to whip around to see the Lizard getting up and out of the webbing. Shoot shoot shoot. Wasn't Hawkeye and Falcon watching him? With a quick glance, Peter sees them talking to the cops, oblivious of the villain.

Peter shoots a web towards Doc Connors despite the long distance and various superheroes in between. "Hey, going' so soon? We just got here."

With a roar, Doc Connors slices the webbing in one fluid motion. Peter wastes only a second before firing another one from his left web shooter, and then one from his right. Peter pulls heavily on the webbing, bringing the Lizard, who's very heavy, mind you, closer to him.

Peter doesn't waste any more time. Running forward, he shoots more webbing at him, trying to keep his claws down and his tail immobile and his jaw shut. But there's only so much a guy can do. Peter tries to dodge, he really does, when his spidey sense rings in his head as he's climbing across the Lizard, trying to bind him up. But it's not much use when he feels electricity begin to shoot through his veins and bones. And Peter knows from physics class what happens when the body gets tazed, and he imagines it feels like this. So, Peter's muscles take over, paralyzing him momentarily, forcing him to the ground, webbing still attached to his wrist.

He totally should've checked over Electro better. This is his penance, Peter guesses.

Peter watches helplessly as Electro continues to shoot electricity at him, unrelenting excepting the few seconds in between - allowing him to breathe. Peter can't even close his eyes at the blue electricity entering his body. Teeth clenched, Peter sees the Black Widow come up behind Electro and hit him over the head so effectively that all electricity immediately stops, and the wannabe god of thunder falls to the ground.

"Are you alright?" she steps towards Peter, crouching down to his level and reaching out a hand for him to take. But Peter just needs a moment to breathe. His spidey sense is only vaguely tingling, probably from the electricity remaining anyway. "Peter?" she whispers to him so that only his advanced hearing could pick it up.

Wait... did she just... Did she just call Spiderman Peter?!

"Can you hear me? Can you move?" she asks once again, reaching towards his neck to now take a pulse. But this is just not going to fly. Peter somehow manages to get his body moving, though stiff and groggy, safely out of her reach.

Sitting up, Peter can now observe the entire scene. The Avengers either looking at him in confusion and concern or at the remaining villains of Doc Oc's boy band in angry observation. Well, Doc Connors, Doc Oc, and Electro. Sandman must've gotten away. That's a real shame. He's the one who stuck a needle in him too. Wait, holy shit, where's the needle?

Peter scans around in even more panic, trying to find the vial of blood in vain. It's gone. Probably with Sandman too.

"Son? Are you alright?" Cap asks, taking a tentative step towards Peter. But Peter's not focusing on him. He's trying to see what's up with his enemies, what the cops are doing, what the people behind the police barricade and cars are trying to do. And with a headache from the electricity and the realization that all of his senses are giving just a little too much input right now, Peter stands himself up.

"I'm - I'm fine, Cap, Captain, uh sir," Peter says. Wait, if they're here, do they know that he left Stark Tower? Is that why they came?

Without waiting for any sort of response, Peter slings a web and takes off, not wanting to reveal himself or embarrass himself. At the top of a nearby(ish) building, Peter can see the scene, can see the Avengers talking to the cops and handing over Doc Oc and his two accomplices. Good - they can take care of everything.

It's here that Peter notices his whole body feels sort of tingly-numb. Well, he doesn't have time for it to go away. So he swings another web and leaves, noticing that the skyscraper they were right next to is Oscorp.

Peter counts his lucky stars when he finds his propped open window of Stark Towers. Pushing it open a little more, ever so slightly he slips into his room, turning around to immediately shut it.

He can't believe that Nat knows. She knows. Oh no, did she tell the rest of the team? Who else knows? What gave it away? How long has she known? What's going to happen now?

And then a bright light turns on.

Turning around, shocked that his spidey sense didn't warn him of a threat, Peter tries to adjust his advanced eyes to the burning light. And he swears, his jaw almost hits the floor when he sees Dr. Banner sitting on a chair near his bed, a bookmarked book in his lap and a tea in his hand.

"Glad to see you, Peter," he smiles, taking a sip of tea and placing it on Peter's nightstand. Holy Shit.

"Uh, I'm not-"

"Peter Parker? It's okay, Peter. I know who you are. I'm not going to hurt you or take you or God forbid, share your secret."

"Wait. What?" He's not going to divulge his secret to anyone and everyone?

"Your secret is safe with me," he smiles at Peter. And Peter can almost feel the genuineness of it. And he likes that.

"H-how did you find out? Did uh, did N-Nat tell you?" Peter asks, walking forward slowly like a zombie and taking his mask off at the same time and rate.

"No," he chuckles, adjusting his glasses. "But when the Avengers got the call to go to where Spiderman was, she forbid Tony from checking in on you. Pretty sure she knew I knew, so she compromised with Tony, saying that I would go instead." Wow. She was helping keep his secret too?

"Really?"

"Yep. She knows more than she ever lets on, I think."

"S-so, how did you..." Peter trails off, almost unable to say the words. But Dr. Banner (bless that man) knows.

"I was suspicious. You eat a lot, Peter. I don't think Cap or Tony ever noticed it. Or anyone else since they've only seen you eat once. And then I saw when you changed your shirt earlier - you've got some serious scars there." Peter blushes. He doesn't really like to talk about them. But for Dr. Banner...

"They're uh, from a while back when I first fought the Lizard. They were just too deep for even my enhanced healing to wipe away completely. Though they closed quick." Dr. Banner just thoughtfully nods.

"I'm guessing that's what happened to you tonight too?" Confused, Peter looks down at his torso. Oh yea, Doc Connors ruined his suit. Right. He's gotta fix that.

"Yeah. I gotta fix it," Peter says, still shocked and sort of numb to everything he's feeling. It's like he's half processing all of his thoughts, simply because there's so much going on. So maybe that's why he feels compelled to take his suit off and put on some pajamas.

"Or maybe get something other than Spandex?" Dr. Banner offers half teasingly and half seriously with a smirk.

"Hey, don't be hating on it. It makes me move faster," Peter defends his suit that he may or may not be emotionally attached to.

"Whatever you say, Peter," Dr. Banner smiles again. Peter sees when it falters, exactly when he very groggily pulls on pajamas. "Are you alright, Peter?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine," Peter tries to push him away. Just because he knows his secret doesn't mean he needs to know everything now. Maybe if he's uncooperative, Dr. Banner will just leave and let him sleep. Because it's really early in the morning, he just had a long night, and he does have school tomorrow.

"Peter, what happened? Are you hurt? I can and will help you, you know," Dr. Banner stands up as Peter approaches, worry pinching his face as he reaches out as if to catch Peter should he fall over. Seems like he's got great confidence in Peter's health right now.

"No, no, I'm fine. Just tired and a little tingly numb everywhere. And my chest aches a little. But it's not a big deal. It was just Electro getting too shock-happy." Peter heavily sits down on his bed, exhausted from his long day.

"He electrocuted you?!" Dr. Banner asks, shocked at Peter's news. "Here, I have to check to make sure you don't have an arrhythmia. Or worse yet, brain damage, general internal damage, burns-"

"No. I'm not doing all of that. I'm fine, Dr. Banner, really. No burns," Peter sticks out his hands and feet on the bed, rotating them for Dr. Banner to see perfectly un-marred skin. "I'd bet money on no brain damage; I feel like I'm firing on all cylinders. I'm just tired. And you can check my heart if you want, but I'm not leaving this room," Peter says, hopefully eliminating the request of an EKG.

With a jaded sigh, Dr. Banner sits down next to Peter. "Fine. I should've known you'd be like the rest of them. Never taking their health seriously, just because of some advanced healing." With a frustrated shake of his head, Dr. Banner reaches two fingers out to Peter's wrist as he stares at his watch.

Peter watches and waits in silence as Dr. Banner gets his pulse. And he has to admit, it's a little strange when he then places a hand over Peter's heart, trying to sense an arrhythmic beating.

"Well, I'd really prefer to have my stethoscope, but from as much as I can tell, you're right: you're fine."

"See?" Peter says, flopping down so that his head hits his pillow.

"Just get some sleep, Peter. I'm sure Tony will want to check in on you after debriefing and a shower when he gets back. So make sure you're sleeping by then," Dr. Banner gets up, giving Peter a pat on the shoulder before exiting the room.

But Peter's already contently fast asleep. More importantly, nightmare free.


	15. Chapter 15

Beep Beep Beep Beep-

Peter groans as his alarm wakes him up. Can't he just skip out on school? Doesn't he deserve that? He had a long night, after all.

Hitting the snooze button on his phone, Peter just rolls over in bed, ready to fall back asleep. Until his phone starts ringing again. With a groan, Peter sits up in bed and reaches for the phone, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes. He could use at least ten more hours of sleep.

"Hey Aunt May," Peter answers the phone.

"Peter. How are you?" his aunt asks, clearly concerned for him.

"I'm fine. Tired. But I'm getting ready for school now." Peter gets out of bed, trying to find and then put on his pair of jeans with only one hand.

"Oh good. I figured I'd call to make sure you're not late. But I also heard about what happened last night. How the Avengers went out to help fight those criminals. Are you alright?"

"Of course I'm alright Aunt May," Peter ignores how he's still a bit sore and stiff from last night, but nothing like when he was shocked. In fact, once he starts moving around, it should go away. "I was at Avengers Tower, sleeping. But Dr. Banner was here when it happened, so I wasn't alone if that's what you're asking." Leave it to Aunt May to be worried about him. It's her job to do so, anyway, he supposes.

"Good. Good. I like that Dr. Banner. Well, make sure you don't forget your clothes or your books or shoes or phone. And make sure you eat before you head out the door." Peter rolls his eyes good-naturedly.

"Yes, Aunt May. Love you." Peter pulls his shirt over his head.

"Love you too, Peter. I'll see you tonight. I'm subbing for Patty again, so I won't be there after school." With lots of goodbyes, Peter shuts his flip phone and tosses it onto the bed. Tying his shoes, Peter realizes that he barely feels sore or numb like last night. Thank you spidey powers.

With his Spiderman suit shoved in the bottom of his bag, his pajamas and previously wet clothes from yesterday on top, and his backpack slung over his shoulder, Peter makes his way out of the room. Maybe he'll get to stay there again. After all, who doesn't like a huge bed?

"Peter! You're awake!" Thor shouts when Peter walks into the kitchen.

"Just barely," Peter admits, walking over to their island counter where Dr. Banner is flipping pancakes.

"How'd you sleep?" Mr. Stark asks, sharing a knowing glance with Peter while sipping his black cup of coffee.

"Uh, pretty well, actually," Peter says, since he didn't wake up from a second nightmare after all.

"Hope you like pancakes," Dr. Banner says as he slides a plate of four large pancakes towards Peter. Guess it's nice that someone knows he eats a whole ton of food.

"Did you hear about what happened last night? Or what happened at your school yesterday?" Cap asks as he drops into the seat next to Peter, folding his newspaper.

"Uh... no? Why?" Peter tries to feign ignorance as he stuffs pancakes drenched in syrup into his mouth.

"Well, apparently at your school, some Sand guy attacked the football coach. Then Spiderman came in to save the day."

"Wait! I missed Spiderman? What time was this?" Peter tries to make it obvious that he didn't know this happened, still busying himself with the pancakes.

"Well, seems like it was as your detention ended. So we thought you might've seen him," Cap says, confusion covering his face.

"Oh, well, there was a sub for my detention and I may have asked if I could leave a little early," Peter tells the truth. "But what happened last night?" Maybe he can stop them from being suspicious of him. If they are suspicious at all.

"Well, Spiderman was fighting that Sand guy and a few of his buddies, like Doctor Connors, Doctor Octavius, and the electric man." Cap pauses before continuing, "And we Avengers went to help Spiderman, but he didn't need much help. In fact, only when we arrived did he start to have a hard time. He was electrocuted until Nat was able to help him," Cap looks down at his hands, clearly ashamed that they couldn't help Spiderman more than they did. "We were hoping that you'd give us as much information on Spiderman as you know since you said you take photographs of him. Maybe you know some more than we do."

Peter shoves more food into his mouth so that he doesn't have to answer immediately.

"Sure, but I really don't know much," Peter says after swallowing, looking up at Dr. Banner for some help. But it's Mr. Stark who unknowingly saves him instead.

"Hey, you gotta get to school, right? Like now?" Peter looks at his watch - OH CRAP. He needs to go. Now.

"Yep, I do," Peter jumps from his seat, slinging his backpack and sling bag over his shoulders before trying to run out to the elevator.

"Wait! Peter!" Cap's voice stops him in his tracks. Turning around, Peter watches Cap throw on a jacket and dad hat before grabbing a pancake and running towards him. "I'll walk with you to school," he says, beaming proudly.

Darn. Peter was going to get there quicker by web-slinging. And he can't do that now since Cap's with him. But Cap looks so excited to be walking him to school that Peter just can't say no.

"Alright," Peter smiles back as he steps into the elevator. You know what, this is still pretty freaking awesome. "Thanks for coming with," Peter says, a smile creeping on his face. Okay, this is super cool.

"No problem, sport. Figured you might like the company. Plus, I want to see what your school looks like. And better yet, where it is if I ever have to pick you up."

"Pick me up?"

"Well, yeah. So that we can start your fighting lessons after school some days," Cap says, a small look of confusion written on his face.

"Oh. Right," Peter tries to hide the irritation in his voice as they step out of the elevator and eventually, out of Stark Towers. "Well, on Thursdays I go to Mr. Jameson to hand in any photos I have or get new assignments, but with the Daily Bugle having burned up, I don't know how much they're going to need me. Or if they can even pay for me..." Peter trails off, not really having thunk of the consequences. Damn, he'll have to get a new job, most likely. Or maybe even start doing those photo contests again. But he needs a steady source of cash to help Aunt May with rent and bills.

"And I can't stay late either. Unless I sleep over like this time," Peter continues. "Aunt May will freak if she hears I'm out late. Ever since Unc-" Peter stops in both his conversation and walk. He'd rather not open that can of worms right before school.

"Your Uncle? Ben, right?" Cap asks, clearly not agreeing to stop this line of conversation.

Peter simply nods his head, forcing his feet to move forward. "He uh- a few months ago he uh-" Peter takes a deep breath. Come on, he's a super hero for Pete's sakes! He shouldn't be so nervous and bothered about talking about his dead Uncle. "A few months ago he was shot by a thief and died from the wound," Peter looks down at his sneakers, relying on Cap and his Spidey senses to not run into anyone or anything.

"From the pictures I saw at your aunt's house," Cap starts, cautiously but confidently, "he seemed to have a kind face. And he seemed to love you and your Aunt dearly."

"Yeah," Peter nods, trying to keep himself together. "But when uh, when he was shot, I was - I was there, Cap. I saw it happen," Peter runs a hand through his hair as they turn a street corner. "I was there and I couldn't stop it. I saw the thief and I didn't stop him. And then he escaped and Uncle Ben tried to stop him and then he was shot," Peter wipes his running nose, trying to keep himself from shedding any tears in front of his favorite superhero.

But he's surprised when he feels Cap's arm wrap around his shoulders. "I'm certain that he wouldn't blame you for it, Peter. Actually, I bet he's proud of you."

Peter simply snorts. Yeah right. As if Uncle Ben would be proud of him.

"I mean it, Peter. You're an amazing kid. You've got great grades, you've got friends, you're kind and smart, and you don't give up. And know this: Even if you don't think he'd be proud of you... I'm proud of you," Cap says to Peter with a smile.

"Thanks, Cap," Peter says, returning a small smile. "Mr. Stark said it'll go away," Peter half-heartedly points to his chest. "That the best I can do is make him proud. Honor his life and all that."

"Hey, Tony is pretty smart," Cap laughs. "But I don't think it's about 'going away' as much as it's about accepting it. Accept that he's passed away but is always with you and that you can't do anything that would make him stop loving you," Cap gives a final pat on Peter's shoulder.

"Thanks, Cap. I really appreciate it," Peter says, fidgeting with the straps of his backpack. Midtown High is right in front of them now, and Peter will have to endure school. Great.

"Of course, sport. We've all lost people, I've been there. Feel free to talk to me about it. Hey, are you coming today after school to start those fighting lessons?" Cap says, a genuine look of hope and excitement on his face.

"Uh," Peter can't say no to him. He'll have to take them eventually. So he better just get it over with. "Yeah. I'll just check with Aunt May and let you know."

"Oh! Here, I'll put my phone number in your phone, right?" Peter laughs at that. Captain America still having problems with technology. Welcome to the life of Peter Parker.  
\------------------------------------------------

"Hey Harry, what's up?" Peter says as he drops his backpack next to his seat in the cafeteria.

Looking all around as if someone might be listening, Harry leans a little closer into the table, his sandwich long forgotten. "I'm not really supposed to be telling anyone, but I can trust you, right Pete?"

"Of course. What's going on, Harry?" Peter asks a little more than a little concerned. What's got Harry so wound up?

Harry stares at his hands, not looking Peter in the eyes, "My dad's missing."

"What?" Peter whisper-shouts. He mustn't've heard that right. "Did you just say th-"

"-that my dad is missing? Yeah. I did. He never returned home from work last night and when I called his secretary to find out where he was, she said she had no idea. But that I have to keep this under wraps. If people found out, then Oscorp stocks would plummet. But Pete, I just don't know what to do."

"Oh my gosh, Harry. I'm so sorry. Do you have any idea where he might be or when he might be back?" But Peter only gets a shake of a head in response. "Don't worry, Harry," Peter puts his hand on his friend's forearm. "They'll find him soon. I just know it." And Harry doesn't even know that Spiderman's going to be on the lookout for him too.

"I'm just worried about his health, you know, that he won't hold up where ever he is. That it'll deteriorate or something," Harry moves his attention from his hands to his sandwich. And it's not a look of appeal. "God. And if they can't find him then I'll basically have to take over the company but someone else will be running it. And I'm only a sophomore, Peter! A sophomore!" Harry yells in hushed tones.

"Don't you get it once you're 18? So, Mr. Davidson will be running it in your place for those two years until then?" Peter tries to make sure that most of this is just a spiral of anxiety talking, and not the truth.

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right. But then I'll have to work with him all the time to learn the ins and outs of the company. And so I'll basically be the only junior CEO of a major company still in high school," Harry covers his face, trying to maintain some semblance of control.

"Then let's hope that your dad makes it back alright," Peter says with a smile trying to keep his friend calm.

What the hell happened to Norman Osborne?

"How about you come over to my place after school? Or we can go to yours? It might be nice to not be alone," Peter offers. "Maybe we can try and figure out what happened to him?"

Peter's surprised when Harry emerges from behind his hands, eyes red but no tears spilling over. Eyebrows furrowed, Harry asks, "you'd help me find him?"

"Of course! What are best friends for anyway?" Peter gives a light laugh. Guess someone's postponing their fighting lesson to later in the day.  
\----------------------------------------------------

"So this is his office?" Peter asks, surprised at just how large the Osborn mansion is. It never seems to get old, despite how many times Peter's been here.

"Yeah," Harry responds from behind Peter. "We can look around, but don't touch too much stuff. I'm not allowed in here unless I'm with him trying to learn about Oscorp."

"Is this a good idea?" Peter bites his lip, turning around to face his friend. "We both know how strict your dad is," Peter warns.

"Really Pete?" Harry asks, an incredulous look on his face. "I thought you said you'd help me," he says, hands on his hips in disbelief.

"I will! I will! I just..." Peter stops. Just what? Is he going to help his friend or not? Harry knows the risks and after all, he would be facing more of the consequences than Peter would. "You know what, let's do it," Peter says with all the confidence he can muster.

Placing his hand on the doorknob, Peter slowly turns it, making as little noise as possible despite Mr. Osborn not being home. Peter and Harry carefully peek their heads in when the door opens up to a large enough sliver. Peter has to force his jaw to stay in place and not hit the floor. His office is huge. With large windows behind the desk and an enormous oak desk in front, Peter can barely believe what he's seeing.

"Come on, we should probably check his desk first," Harry says, completely unaware of Peter's awe. Shaking his head, Peter forces his feet forward on the perfect flooring.

"Do you want to check the drawers?" Harry asks as he already begins searching the top of his dad's desk.

"Sure," Peter says, swallowing any nervousness he has about this whole situation.

In fifteen minutes, Peter finds only blank paper, rubber bands, too many of the same 0.7 pen, and not nearly enough paper clips for a desk.

"Anything yet, Harry?" Peter asks, looking up at his friend.

"No. I didn't really expect any of the papers on his desk to have sensitive stuff, but it was worth a shot," Harry says, looking quite defeated. Peter stands up, looking around for any other clues. There has to be something in here that could give them a clue! Not saying anything to Harry, Peter walks over to the large bookshelf.

"How tall's your dad again, Harry?"

"Uh, why-" Harry's confusion suddenly vanishes from his face, seeing what Peter's trying to do. "This shelf should be on his eye level," Harry points it out to Peter.

"Well, then let's start there," Peter grabs the first book off the shelf, a dictionary. Not likely to have anything, but worth a shot opening.

Harry grabs the next book off as well, both sitting down on the floor to read through Mr. Osborne's entire bookshelf if need be.

"Holy shit, Harry," Peter suddenly says, breaking Harry out of his intense reading of The Human Body: Strengths and Weaknesses. "I don't know who Mendel Stromm is, but this is his lab book." Peter holds up the leather binding for his best friend to see.

"He worked for my dad. Got arrested at some point. Guess his work was good despite his crimes," Harry shrugs, unsure as to why Peter's so excited over a lab notebook.

"Yeah, well, it looks like he's trying to enhance the human body. Things like superhuman strength, intelligence, speed, reflexes. This is insane, dude. And it looks like he came close to the right chemical formula." Harry immediately scoots over to look over his friend's shoulder.

Peter flips over a few pages, reading chemical formula after chemical formula and lab results until Harry suddenly stops on a page.

"That's my dad's handwriting," Harry says, face turning pale. "Oh my gosh, he stole some guy's work and is trying to make a formula to mess with the body," Harry says, covering his mouth in shock and surprise. Turning to look at him, Peter can see his friend's wide eyes. Yep, Norman Osborne is stepping outside of Oscorp's normal research zone.

"He can't have been successful, could he?" Peter whispers before returning to flipping through the pages.

In silence, both of them frantically read over the notes and formulas. They read until the last experiment has nearly positive results. Then, the notes become less organized. There are a few sporadic notes, a few calculations, but Peter's more interested in the bottom corner of the last page to have writing. Circled multiple times is, "See Otto, Tues."

"Harry," Peter starts, his own face paling in realization. "I think I know where your dad is." He points to the note, waiting for Harry to realize what he did.

"Otto? Is that a person?"

"Yeah. Dr. Otto Octavius, the supervillain named Doc Oc that fights Spiderman."

"Oh my God..." Harry stares at the note, eyes wide and unbelieving. His dad is meeting with a supervillain. A man who stole from his company merely days ago. A man who used to work for his company.

"Dude, your dad's not lost. He could be home any minute. We gotta put all this back," Peter says, starting to become nervous, but not sensing any danger from his spidey sense. And that seems to snap Harry out of his shock. Looking down at all the books on the floor, Harry seems to come to the same thought: His dad will be pissed he went through his stuff.

Both boys spring up from their seats on the floor, grabbing books and frantically trying to remember what order they went in on the shelf. With five books left, Peter feels his spidey sense telling him that someone's coming. Damn it. Screw accuracy. Peter throws the last few books on the shelf and grabs Harry's arm, pulling him out of the office and shutting the door.

His spidey sense ringing even louder in his head, Peter pulls them all the way down the hallway and into one of the numerous lounges. Just as Peter pushes Harry into a seat and sits, his spidey sense goes off the hook as Norman Osborne walks into the room.

"Oh, Harry, it's just you. And Peter! What a lovely surprise!" he says, walking further into the room to ruffle both boys' hair.

"Dad, where were you? I called the office and Lindsay said you weren't there and you weren't home and you weren't picking up your phone."

"Oh, late meeting. Actually, a spontaneous one too. An important client wanted to meet with me, so I arranged a last-minute meeting," Mr. Osborne says. And both Peter and Harry know he's lying through his teeth but won't call him out on it.

"Well, I'm glad you're okay," Harry says, smiling at his dad, both relieved and a little concerned. Mr. Osborne smiles back, a little unusual for him.

"Are you staying for dinner, Peter?" Mr. Osborne asks.

"Oh. No, sorry. I was just keeping Harry company until you returned. Plus, I have a uh, I have that Stark Internship I've got to go to," Peter stands up from the seat. "But thank you, Mr. Osborne. I'll uh, talk to you later, Harry?" Peter asks, trying to read his friend. With a nod from Harry, Peter says his goodbyes, grabs his backpack from Harry's room and makes his way out of Osborne Mansion.

Norman Osborne, working with criminals. Not just that, but enemies of Peter's. What is happening to his life?


End file.
